


Douse This Fire

by PotatoQuinn



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Aden is Lexa's little brother, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anya is Lexa's stepsister, Clarke Griffin Has PTSD - Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Depression, Detective!Anya, F/F, F/M, Firefighter!Lexa, M/M, Panic Attacks, Security guard!Bellamy, Suicide Attempt, artist!Clarke, changed the rating because a Crime Scene and also there's a lot more coming, firefighter!Lincoln, teacher!Gina
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-24
Updated: 2018-06-16
Packaged: 2018-10-23 13:31:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 42,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10720296
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PotatoQuinn/pseuds/PotatoQuinn
Summary: Clarke Griffin is teaching an art class at Polis City's art museum when there's an attack. There's explosions and gunfire, all for the sake of trying to lure out the ever elusive Nia Winters, and Clarke and the class she's teaching are caught in the middle of it.Lexa Woods and her squad get called to assist in quelling a fire from a terrorist attack where her younger brother and niece are supposed to be attending an art class. With the help of volunteers and her squad, she puts out the fire and cleans up the rubble, rescuing the group that had fallen to the basement of the building. When she finally makes her way to the hospital, she finds that the art teacher had taken it upon herself to look after her injured brother until Lexa gets there to take him home.Along with the threat of the terrorists and whoever they're working for, there's also a dangerous, new drug making it's rounds throughout Kongeda County. Of course, Clarke and her friends are too nosy for their own good, and Lexa and her detective sister are pulled into their antics as they try to get to the bottom of it all.Will they figure things out before someone gets hurt, or will they push their luck too far?





	1. Chapter 1

**Clarke; Friday, 10:26am.**

 

    Low chatter drifted around the room, filled with giggles and shushes. A group of twenty-three seventh grade students sat at paint covered tables with brushes in their hands and table-top easels in front of them. Their teacher sat at the desk in front grading papers as they painted, while a young blonde walked around behind the students. The blonde wore faded jeans speckled with dry paint and a grey tee-shirt fairing about the same. Her hair was pulled up in a messy bun, a few loose tendrils curling around her cheeks. 

    Even with the chattering and giggling, the students diligently worked at their stations, smearing acrylic paint on canvases. Clarke Griffin’s art lessons, which they attended twice a month at the art museum in Polis City, was their favourite class. Even for those who struggled to create, those who loved to create but didn't quite have the talent. Clarke always made sure to compliment each student on their art, giving tips on how to improve. They usually painted their own things, unless they couldn't think of anything. In which case, Clarke would give them a prompt. Like their future house, or their favourite animal, or something like that. She loved spending time with these kids, sharing her techniques and watching them come up with ideas.

    The artist studied the canvas of one girl, leaning over her shoulder. “I really like the dark colours here, Charlotte. Maybe, if you want, add just one bright colour, to emphasise the darkness.” The girl nodded, looking at the paints laid in front of her to decide which to use. Charlotte was a quiet kid, who always seemed to drift towards Clarke when the kids weren't painting or drawing. Clarke kind of took her under her creative wing, encouraging her to try new things.

    “Aden, this is brilliant! Is this a real place?” The boy had painted a landscape, a backyard full of trees and flowers. An old swingset sat to the side, and a fence surrounded the area. 

    The blond boy nodded, scratching his nose. “Yeah, it's my yard. Well, minus the flowers there, but Lexa says I can plant some when spring starts.” Clarke smiled and nodded, straightening up. He was talented, and always did some sort of landscape or scenery or cityscape.

    “I like how you plan things.” She moved on, stopping at the girl next to Aden. She painted coloured shapes, all blending together at one point before bursting out. “Tris, this is awesome. Do you not feel like blue this week?” 

    “Blue is a sad colour this week,” the girl confirmed. “And I don't feel sad. Mom finally got promoted, so I'm more happy than anything.” Abstract painting was Tris’ strong suit, shapes and colours contrasting each other.

    “Nice! She's a police officer, right?” Clarke leaned against the end of the table, crossing her arms.

    “Yeah. She was a patrol officer and now she's a detective. I dunno what there is to detect, though, Polis City isn't really full of crimes to detect, is it?” The girl swirled a new colour and added it to her masterpiece.

    “I don't know. Maybe there is sometimes, like when things get stolen. Or that vandalism over at the church,” Clarke suggested, shrugging. 

    There was a knock on the door by the desk, and it opened to reveal a young man with shaggy brown hair and a self-satisfied smirk. “Hey, babe.”

    “Finn! What are you doing here?” The blonde smiled, ignoring the snickering coming from the kids. 

    The smirk stretched into a smile when she kissed him on the cheek. “Just wanted to visit my girlfriend. When do you get off?”

    Clarke raised her brow, amused. “Four p.m., but then I have plans with O.” She set her hands on her hips. “I told you that yesterday.”

    “Aw, come on. You can cancel, she won't mind!” Finn whined, leaning on Clarke and making her stagger to the side a bit.

    Clarke scoffed, shoving him off her. “You can tell her that, then. I haven't hung out with Octavia in weeks, thanks to you.” She frowned when he shrugged. “You aren't more important than her, she's my best friend.”

    “Miss Griffin! I'm running out of red!” A student, Jason, raised his hand in blessed interruption, his face covered in splotches of different colours. 

    Clarke grinned and went to her shelf in the back corner of the room before starting towards the boy that sat by the front classroom door. Gina Martin, the students’ teacher, had also started her way that way, to look at why exactly the boy needed so much red paint. The two women were a few feet away from the boy when suddenly there was an explosion. 

 

**Lexa; Friday, 10:28am**

 

    Sweat glistened on Lexa's skin as she pulled herself up on the chin bar for the last time. She dropped to her feet after a count of ten, taking the water bottle offered to her by her teammate Megan. She cracked it open and toasted the bottle to her friend before gulping half. A stereo sat on a shelf nearby, playing softly. A few of the crew sat around the table they used for meals, playing poker. A few others sat on the old beat-up sofa in front of the big boxy TV, playing video games. Lexa made her way to the sofa, leaning on the arm and nudging her best friend Lincoln‘s arm.

    “Lexa, dammit!” Lincoln swore as his avatar died on screen, making the woman smirk. He sighed and handed the controller over, then leaned back and looked up at the brunette. “How's your brother doing?”

    Lexa sighed and sipped some more water, staring at the screen without seeing what was happening. “Aden's doing better. The art classes they go to twice a month really help him. He talks nonstop about the teacher.” She tilted her head, her brow wrinkling as she tried to remember what her name was. “Miss, miss… Started with a ‘g’ I think.” She shrugged. “I think the art helps him relax, though.” Her younger brother had been struggling for the last few years, ever since their father passed away. The old man had been a drunk, and Lexa had had custody of Aden since she was twenty and the boy was seven, but the death of Donny Woods still hit them both hard.

    Lincoln lit up, grinning. “Griffin?”

    “Yeah, I think so. How do you know?” Lexa pushed him over and sat between him and the arm, crossing one leg over her knee. 

    “My girlfriend's best friend teaches art twice a month at the art museum, Clarke Griffin,” Lincoln explained, stealing his friend's water and finishing it. He ignored her glare and tossed the empty bottle at Ryder to try and mess up his kill streak on the game. “Like Octavia teaches kickboxing on the weekends. For the kids, to give them something to do and to focus on.” 

    Lexa nodded, maneuvering to rest her legs over his as she leaned back against the arm of the sofa. “Of course you somehow know this mystery woman. Even Tris talks highly of her.”

    “Your niece talks highly of everyone,” Lincoln chuckled, taking the controller from Tristan.

    Before Lexa could say anything about anything, the alarm went off. The fire chief, Gustus Wilde, swept in from the kitchen on the way to the trucks. “There’s been a couple of explosions at the museum, unknown number of fatalities, unknown number of injured. Let's go, people!”

    The fire station became a blur of activity as the crew on call suited up and checked over their truck one last time before heading out with sirens blazing. Lexa rode behind the driver, her heart racing. Was today the day the kids went for their art lessons? Or was that last week? Her schedule had her inner calendar all off, she couldn't remember…. 

    They met a small army of police officers and four ambulances in front of the museum. The museum looked to be mostly intact, only the two wings on either side affected. The crew climbed out, and was blocked by Lieutenant Indra Moss and her Sergeant, David Miller. “There's estimated to be three assailants inside, holding hostages. I have my negotiators trying to establish contact now, but it seems the phone wires were cut.”

    Lincoln shifted, seeming to think for a second. “Here, try Bellamy Blake. I think he's working today. I have his number, he's my girlfriend's brother.” He rattled off the number, then turned to another officer. “An, can I use your phone to call O?”

    Indra interrupted before the woman could answer. “Absolutely not, we're trying to keep this under wraps for as long as we can.”

    “Looks like this is the limit,” Lexa pointed out as two white vans pulled up across the street. “Polis News and COLBC.” Polis News was as it was named, a local news station that reported on all things. All things. Everything. Even when Mrs. Porter’s poodle had puppies. COLBC was the City of Light Broadcasting Center, always looking for exciting news and gossip to share. To, ‘shine the light on all things’ so that no one was ‘left in the dark’. Like the fact that Mrs. Porter’s poodle’s puppies were part dachshund, the father was Mr. Jenks’ dog from across the street, and Mrs. Porter and Mr. Jenks spent a lot of time together. Usually in the garden, drinking iced tea while their dogs did their thing. Of course, Alie Christian left that part out.

    “Keep those reporters back!” Indra barked out a command, scowling deeper than normal. 

    “There's been gunfire confirmed, Lieutenant!” one of the officers ran up, his face red and blotchy and shiny with sweat.

    Indra cursed and spun around, stalking to the van nearby. “Jaha, tell me you got through.”

    “Yes ma'am. They're requesting either a clean getaway or Nia Winters.” The young man chewed on his lip, looking worried. “The man said he'd kill more people the longer we make him wait.”

    “Nia Winters is out of town for a meeting,” a young woman informed them, then stuck her hand out. “Zoe Monroe, I work third shift security.” She stuck her hand in her pocket when no one shook it. “Okay, well, Nia has a meeting in Montgomery tomorrow, she won't be back until Sunday.”

 

**Clarke; Friday, 10:34am.**

 

    There was a ringing, muffled shouting. Hands were on her shoulders and a blurry face in front of her. “Clarke! Clarke, can you hear me? Oh god… Clarke!” Gina had a gash on her cheek, but otherwise looked okay...

    “Gina? Wha-” the blonde blinked, her vision starting to come back. Her hearing was still a bit muffled, but she could understand what was being said. Her ribs ached something fierce. Clarke moved to get up, placing her hands flat on the ground. A sharp pain shot up her right arm, and she cried out as she collapsed back to the floor. “Okay. Not using that arm.” She managed to get up, looking around.

    The room was in shambles. Where the door had been was a pile of rubble, a hole in the ceiling. The tables were in pieces, and four small bodies lied still and quiet. The kids were all either crying or staring in disbelief at the destruction. Finn was huddled on the other side of the desk, virtually unharmed. Clarke moved quickly to the four on the floor, checking for pulses. Her face went grey as she found only one still alive. She swallowed the nausea back and checked the boy over, finding only a bump on his head and some scrapes from the blast. He was conscious, and able to move with Gina's help. Some debris fell from the ceiling by the used-to-be door, and Clarke pulled back the few kids that were still near there. 

    “Come on, we need to-” 

    There was a rapport of gunfire –at least, that's the only way Clarke could describe the sound– and some shouting. The door leading to the main part of the museum opened up and an older Asian woman appeared. She had an M16 assault rifle in her hands, aiming wildly in the room. “Boss says to move it, gather in the main gallery!” She motioned with the weapon as she talked, her eyes darting every which way. A bead of sweat dripped down her temple to her cheek, and she wiped at it with her shoulder. She glanced behind her and gestured with the gun again, looking agitated and scared. “Move!”

    Clarke licked her lips and nodded, ignoring the taste of dust and iron. “Okay, just give us a minute. They're just kids, and one of them is hurt.” She nudged at the kid closest to her, a blonde haired blue eyed girl. “Go on, Kara. I'm right behind you. Bobby, Olivia, go on.” The blonde girl, Kara, grabbed the hand of her sister, Alex, and started leading the kids out into the main gallery. Clarke inserted herself in the middle of the kids, and Gina took up the back. In front were Kara, Bobby, Alex, Olivia, James, Winn, Lucy, Aden, Tris, and Phil. Directly behind Clarke was Charlotte, then Hunter, Maggie, Melinda, Leo, Jemma, Elliot, Emma, Regina, and Andy. Gina helped Andy, mostly offering support just in case. Finn followed behind, eyeing the woman carefully.

    “What about those three?” The gunner nodded at the kids in the rubble. Jason, Maxwell, and Gabe lay buried half under the pieces of ceiling and wall, dead.

    Clarke clenched her jaw, pushing Phil forward to go through the door. “They didn't survive your bomb.” The words were spit out, full of venom. The woman paled, and Clarke held back a satisfied smirk. She felt things then, good.

    The class filed into the main hall, staying grouped together. There was a bunch of people already gathered. The security guards were on their knees with their hands on their heads. Roan, the son of the owner of the art museum and the manager, stood near the guards, holding up his younger sister as she sagged against him. A few people were scattered around bleeding from gunshot wounds, and a couple of them weren't breathing. There were two men with guns and masks. One was a stocky black man, who held his rifle carelessly with his finger on the trigger. The other was a pale white man who twitched, his finger also on his trigger. Clarke and Gina gathered the kids in one spot, as far from the three shooters as possible. 

    “We want Nia Winters!” The black man shouted, aiming his gun at Roan.

    “Well she's not here,” Roan told him, speaking as if he'd already said this. 

    The black man lifted his chin, and the pale man released a shower of bullets on the people gathered. A handful fell, some with screams, some silently. Clarke tried to put herself between the kids and the shooters. “Then get her here, or more people die!”

    Roan swore loudly, shifting his hold on the injured girl he held. “Listen, she's out of town! She won't be able to get here for two days at least!”

    Another shower of bullets dropped some of the kids along with more grown ups, and the whole room went into a panic. Gina screamed out, catching Maggie as she fell with a hole in her leg. Seven others cried out and either collapsed or cringed, injured. Clarke let out her own colourful swearing, spinning to check on the kids. With the help of a gorgeous brunette with tan skin, they managed to move the kids mostly behind one of the pillars that stretched between the floor and the ceiling. Finn tried to hide, going paler than before. The brunette held out her hand, grimacing. “Raven Reyes.”

    Clarke took that moment, while the shooters were distracted, to shake the woman's hand. “Clarke Griffin. That's Gina Martin, and my boyfriend, Finn Collins.” She pointed at each.

    “ _ Your  _ boyfriend?” Raven furrowed her brows, turning to the shaggy haired man. “Wha-”

    “Ah, hey, Raven, I can explain…” Finn grinned sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck.

    “Wait, you know her?” Clarke looked between the two, a sour feeling settling in her gut.

    “I should hope he knows me, he's been  _ my  _ boyfriend for five years!” Raven scowled at the blonde, leaning on her left leg and resting her hands on her hips. 

    “What? He never mentioned having a girlfriend. He's been with me for seven months!” Clarke turned to Finn then, her glare demanding an explanation. The man had the decency to look ashamed, not meeting any of the gazes on him.

    “This can wait til later, Clarke!” Gina interrupted, and the blonde spun to see the teacher trying to staunch the bleeding of Emma’s gut wound. “Help me!”

    Clarke dropped down next to the girl and peeled off her shirt. She had a tank top underneath, so she wasn't worried about exposure. She balled the cloth up and pressed it against the wound, then called the dark haired girl nearby over. “Regina! Hold this as hard as you can!” 

    “Hey! Shut up, quit moving around!” The pale man swung his gun around and yelled at Clarke. The artist flinched, expecting to be shot.

    “At least let us help them! They're just kids!” Raven spoke up from the side of Leo, who had a hole in his arm. She was in the process of tying Jemma’s ribbon around his arm above the wound as tight as she could. 

 

**Lexa; Friday, 11:36am**

 

    Tensions were high on Main Street as everyone that had gathered stood and waited. A group of parents, family, and friends of those held inside clustered as close to the yellow tape as they were allowed. Some held hands with others, praying for the safety of their children, spouses, brothers, sisters, parents. Others sat or stood still, staring at the front doors like they would miraculously spill out the hostages. Lexa paced in front of the fire truck, her face stoic. The only emotion showing was from her eyes, which watered just the slightest against her will. Her hat was held in her hands as she paced, her curls held back in a single braid. They had managed to get a hold of the museum owner, but the soonest she could be back was the next afternoon. So now there was a nondescript black SUV on the way, to provide the terrorists a way of escape. Equipped, of course, with a tracer embedded in the steering wheel. 

    Every once in awhile, she'd peek inside the museum. She could just make out a few people, with the sun currently above the building. She could tell that one person was drifting among the hostages, a flash of blonde hair. She could see the group of kids, just barely, if she strained her eyes just right. She could see when the terrorists gunned down anyone that moved too much that wasn't the blonde. Maybe the blonde was their partner. Maybe the blonde was helping anyone injured. 

    The news anchors had their cameras trained on the doors, and the few photographers for the surrounding newspapers were snapping picture after picture of whatever they could catch. Lexa finally got tired of waiting and went to one of the photographers, a short redhead with brown eyes. “Hey, did you get a good picture of that blonde inside? The one that keeps moving.”

    “Yeah, here.” The ginger flipped through the pictures on her memory card and brought up a certain picture. “I was lucky, the big guy with the big gun moved just in time for me to get this before she moved on. It looks like she's trying to help those who are hurt.”

    Lexa looked at the picture closely, seeing a blonde woman kneeling next to a dark haired girl and man. She looked to be speaking with them while holding something to the girl's arm. “Thank you. Do you know who she is?” Not that she particularly cared, but she was a bit curious.

    “No, sorry.” The redhead shook her head before going back to taking pictures. “Whoa, two of the bad guys are gone.” Lexa whipped around and squinted at the glass doors, trying to see in. “Oh, no, there they are. One was upstairs… Wonder what she was doing?”

    “One's a woman?” Lexa glanced at the redhead, who nodded. 

    Then she watched as two packages were placed near the inside doors. The SUV pulled up, and the driver got out and ran to duck behind the police van. The officers all aimed their weapons at the doors, and all the reporters and camera people and photographers aimed their equipment. The three assailants backed out of the building, and one spun around and aimed at everyone he could. Lexa ducked down and pulled the redhead down with her, peeking around the red truck to watch as the bastards dropped something to the ground before they climbed into the SUV. 

    The ground shook as the building blew up, blinding all who were watching. 

    The SUV peeled away, and the rescuers that weren't holding back the citizens surged forward. Lexa and her crew started on trying to subdue the fire that was now burning brightly. Another fire truck pulled up and in no time both trucks had water spraying on the flames. The heat was intense, but the crew worked quickly and efficiently to quell the fire. 

 

**Clarke; Friday, 11:45am.**

 

    “Don't let her fall asleep. Hear that, Ontari? Stay awake, okay?” Clarke spoke to the Winters siblings before moving on to the guards. “Murphy, you alright?” 

    The man scoffed, stretching his neck a bit. “Fine, Princess.” Clarke cringed at the nickname that had followed her from high school. “What about you? Your wrist looks like shit.”

    Clarke huffed out a chuckle, shaking her head as she directed his hand to press against his side. “I'm fine. Broken wrist, if the swelling and lack of mobility is any indication. Hold this here, as hard as you can.” 

    “Princess, you've done all you can. Rest a bit,” a dark haired man urged, his dark eyes pleading. 

    “Bellamy. You okay? Did you get hurt?” Clarke inspected her best friend's brother, searching for any wounds.

    “No, miraculously I'm just fine.” He pushed her away and nudged her back towards the kids. “Go sit down, they're getting antsy.” He eyed the shooters, who were clustered near the front doors with their guns trained on the hostages inside. Red and blue lights lit up the immediate area by the doors, having been there since after the bomb went off. They had a phone, Bellamy's, and had been communicating with those outside. The three inside had been standing there, shooting at anything that moved too much that wasn't Clarke. They only let her up to try and help those injured, so no one else died. With her circulating, the other hostages stayed mostly calm. 

    The black man straightened up and pointed two fingers first to the left, then to the right. The pale man ran off to the right, going towards the back door. The woman ran up the stairs on the left to the second floor. Then, they both came back and they all started to back away. The two lackeys stopped by the front doors and placed packages down. “Enjoy the presents we left! Tell Nia Winters ‘Wallace sends his love’!” The black man sneered, then the three left the building.

    As soon as the villains were clear, four explosions shook the entire building.

 

**Lexa; Friday, 11:53am.**

 

    Lexa let out a string of expletives as she and her team worked to get the blaze under control. She had to force herself to focus on the heat, and not think about Aden and Tris inside, about the other kids, about the blonde she’d seen…

    She gave her head a shake and shifted the hose, gritting her teeth. She didn’t exactly zone out, but she felt herself detach mentally from events. Like an out of body experience. She was aware of what she was doing, knew exactly what she was doing, but she didn’t make a conscious effort. She didn’t need to, the movements it took to end this disaster already ingrained in her muscle memory. Thankfully, it didn’t take much longer to get the fire out. Or at least, it didn’t seem like it. 

    The sun was high in the sky, and the rubble was still steaming from the initial explosions, but the Chief ordered the Rescue team (read: volunteers from the police force and the Fire team) to start picking their way into the building to look for survivors while the remaining team worked at the flames that still licked at one side of the destroyed museum. Lexa was one of the ones to head towards the wreckage, followed by the rest of her crew. She inspected the entryway, relieved to find it stable enough to start removing some of the rubble that lay in the way of their rescue.

 

**Clarke; Friday, 12:03pm.**

 

    Clarke pushed herself up with her left arm, cursing under her breath. All the kids were crying now, along with quite a handful of adults. Someone was yelling, and something was dripping steadily. Dust floated in the air, and sparks lit up parts of the room. The floor had collapsed, the ceiling had followed, and now the blonde was in the basement with some of the kids. She blinked to clear her vision. Aden clutched his left arm to his chest, looking over a cut on Charlotte's head. Tris pressed a strip of her shirt to the side of Aden's head, working on ripping up another strip to hand to Alex, who was looking over a gash on James’ arm. Lucy held Bobby up, and all seven of them crowded around Clarke. There were more people in the basement, most in different states of injury. 

    Clarke coughed, wincing at the ache in her ribs. “You kids okay?” When they nodded, even the ones in obvious pain, she shook her head. “Of course you're not. Can you move?” They nodded again. “Then come on, let's see if anyone else needs our help.”

    She led her small group around, checking on people. Some had broken bones, some had gashes and cuts. A few unmoving, with jackets over their faces. Murphy stood over one woman, his face in a twist of attempted impassiveness. “She was just a cleaner, a kid.”

    Clarke squeezed his shoulder with her good hand, sniffing. “Yeah, she was a good kid. Come on, Murph. Let's see if we can help someone.” The man nodded and turned, following the blonde and her entourage. They picked their way through the chunks of concrete scattered around, skirted around exposed electrical wiring. A muffled groan from a pile of rubble had the little group scurrying over. Clarke, Lucy, James, Tris, Alex, and Murphy all started on unburying whoever was under the concrete, the other three kids sitting to rest on the floor nearby. After a minute, they got the debris mostly removed. “Oh God, Raven!” 

    The brunette attempted a nonchalant wave, her smile more of a grimace as she clutched at her left thigh. “Hey. This is not a very good day.”

    “What’s wrong?” Clarke checked over the part of Raven she could see, looking for injuries.

    “My leg is stuck, I can’t get it free,” the woman grit out, her hands massaging the appendage. 

    Clarke let out another swear, leaning over to look at the piece of steel beam that pinned the woman down. “Just hang on, We’ll get you out.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Lexa; Friday, 12:15pm**

 

    Lexa threw herself into the physical labour of removing the still slightly smoking debris from the entrance. An assembly line had formed, and the fire crew worked together with some of the police force, handing chunks of concrete back into a pile in the parking lot. So far, they’d found about twelve people, four of them dead. She couldn’t afford to focus on the probability of finding her brother and niece, so she immersed herself in the process of clearing the entryway. Anya was right next to her, her own emotions pushed back as she helped to direct the rescue team. A group of civilians had managed to push into the fray, helping the survivors as they were dug up and helping to clear away some of the debris. Lincoln and his girlfriend hauled away some of the smaller chunks of concrete. An older man with a kind face worked silently to direct those injured but still walking to the tent that had been set up as an on-scene infirmary. Another older man worked with a few others to try and set up spotlights to make sure the rescuers could see even inside the demolished building where shadows lingered. The power had been cut off to the entire area, in an attempted prevention of an electrical fire breaking out. Separate groups worked at the two wings. The photographer from earlier, along with a few others, stood with some of the police officers and were going through the pictures they took to try and pick out who was where inside when the bombs went off. 

    “Lex, drink this.” A water bottle was thrust in front of the brunette’s face, and she frowned as she took hold of it. She looked up at her stepsister, then pulled off a glove to crack the beverage open. “They’re okay.”

    “How can you know that, An?” Lexa drank deeply, then passed the water back. “We don’t know, we don’t know anything.” For all they knew, the kids were right there where one of the explosions were, or they were in one of the wings and never made it as far as the main gallery, or-

    “No, we don’t. But Aden and Tris are resourceful kids. They’ll be alright.” Anya took the bottle and sipped at it, then recapped it and set it aside, pulling her own gloves back on and gripping a particularly stubborn chunk of concrete. “We have to believe they are, or we won’t be any help to anyone. Let’s get this all cleared out so we can find them, okay?” She pulled on the chunk, turning her face away when a cloud of dust billowed up a bit. She let go for a moment to adjust the mask she wore, then yanked on it again.

    Lexa pulled her glove back on and nodded, taking a deep breath and swallowing back the panic that threatened to settle in her throat. She was surprised, honestly, that her sister was so calm. Tris was in there somewhere, her  _ daughter _ . She shook her head and licked her lips, focusing back at the task in hand. She gripped onto the same chunk of debris Anya had a hold of and pulled, and they managed to get it free and handed off down the line. She nodded and stretched out her back, then reached for another concrete chunk. “Okay.” 

 

**Clarke; Friday, 12:22pm**

 

    “Shit. Sorry.” Clarke shook her head, leaning over to rest her hands on her knees. The beam pinning Raven down wouldn’t budge, not that she’d actually expected it to. A bunch of kids, an art teacher, and a security guard did not really make a very strong team. Not to mention the lights had gone out nearly twenty minutes ago, leaving the entire space in relative darkness. Murphy had still had his flashlight, which Aden held up with his good arm from next to where Bobby was resting.

    “Miss Griffin, will we make it out of here?” Leave it to James to ask the real questions. 

    “Of course, yeah!” Clarke smiled and nodded, straightening up and looking at the seven kids who were spread out in front of her. “Look, okay, my best friend is dating a firefighter, yeah? She’ll make sure they get us out.” 

    Murphy stayed quiet, running his hand through his hair as he looked around the area, his throat working as he swallowed. They had found a few more people trapped down there, but they were all either too injured to do much or dead.

    “Yeah, and my sister is a firefighter, too,” Aden agreed, nodding as he he clutched his arm close to his chest. He handed the flashlight to Bobby, shaking out his good hand with a grimace.  “And Tris’ mom is a cop. They’ll get us out, we’ll be okay.”

    Raven scoffed, slumping back so that her head hit the ground with a soft thump. “Yeah, sure.” She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, interlocking her fingers across her stomach. She opened one eye and peeked at Clarke, frowning. “Since we’re sort of stuck down here, wanna explain how you know Finn?”

    Clarke sat down and gestured for the kids to do the same. She really didn’t want to get into this here, now, but she didn’t exactly have a choice. She sighed and shook her head, shrugging. “I met him at a coffee shop.” She grinned for a minute, then sighed again. “He tried to take the last banana nut muffin.” Tris and Charlotte giggled while Bobby, Alex, and Lucy grinned. At least  _ someone _ was entertained. The boys rolled their eyes and shook their heads, mumbling something about girls and gossiping. 

    “Wow, that’s really…” Raven raised her brows and closed her eye.

    “Dumb?” Clarke guessed, wrinkling her nose. 

    “Clichè,” Raven corrected, snorting. “I’ve known him most of my life, we were next door neighbours.” She scrunched up her nose and turned her head a bit. “We didn’t start dating until he graduated high school, though.” Clarke chose not to comment, pulling her knees up to rest her chin on them. When Raven spoke again, it was with a shaky voice and a slightly trembling lip. “Is it normal to not feel my leg?”

 

**Lexa; Friday, 1:37pm**

 

More survivors had been found, and more people found dead. Lexa was now working in a haze, forcing herself to stay detached from the situation. Thirteen students were found in the main gallery so far, along with their teacher and a handful of others. The woman from earlier, Monroe, was at the infirmary station hovering over her girlfriend that had been found buried near the entrance. She was miraculously mostly okay, with just a fractured wrist, some gashes and a slight concussion. Lexa only knew all this because the couple had argued about it just moments before. 

    “Looks like the floor caved in to the basement,” John Jones, one of the guys on Lexa’s crew, called out from the back of the building. “Hey, is anyone down there?”

    Lexa picked her way over to him, looking down as he shined a flashlight into the gaping hole in front of them. At first there was nothing but rubble, and then there was a group of faces staring up at them. A few kids and a man with stringy brown hair clutching his side. “Yeah, a bunch of us. A lot of hurt people.” The man looked down at the kids, then over to the side. “And like seven kids.”

    Lexa’s heart jumped into her throat as she squinted down at the grimy faces, finding Tris and Aden both there. “Alright, hold on! we’ll get you out of there!” She backed up and turned to the man working the spotlights. “We need some light over here, there’s people in the basement!”

    After about ten minutes of maneuvering and excited shouting, they had a couple of spotlights shining down into the darkness, a couple more with some extension cords ready to be lowered down with a few volunteers. Lexa herself was going down, along with Tristan, Ryder, Megan and John. Another expanse of time went by, and they were finally helping those able to move up and out of the basement. They managed to free the woman under the steel beam, and then they worked on moving the dead up to the main level. All-in-all, the rescue was quick and successful, and the survivors were on their way to the temporary infirmary. They spent another half hour checking over the rubble before declaring that they got everyone, then left the building. Indra had already had her officers tape off the entire building, leaving a generous amount of space between the tape and the rubble.

    Lexa then went to her chief. “Gus, can I go? My brother-”

    “Go, go,” He interrupted with a wave of his hand. “Make sure he’s okay and check back in with me tomorrow, but you have the day off.” The big man smiled and turned to talk to the Lieutenant.

    “Thank you!” She nodded and went to the truck, stripping out of her protective coveralls and storing her gear in the cab. Then she went to find Anya, who was already waiting for her by her car with Tris. 

    “I have the day off tomorrow, so wanna do a family day?” Anya glanced over, and Lexa frowned at the nonchalant way she spoke. As if they didn’t just pull out a bunch of dead people from the debris of the art museum. As if Aden wasn’t currently waiting in the hospital for his sisters to join him. As if everything was okay…

    “Please, Aunt Lex?” Tris spoke up from the back, and Lexa sagged into the seat and nodded. 

    “Yeah, we can even order pizza.” Because Anya’s unspoken plea to have something normal happen was what she wanted too. 

 

**Clarke; Friday, 3:13pm**

 

    The hospital was buzzing with activity as she sat there, holding her wrist to her chest. Aden sat next to her on one side, and Charlotte sat on the other. Some of the other kids sat nearby as well, all of them silently watching as their more injured friends were taken away to be treated. Clarke was planning on sitting there until every kid had someone there for them. 

    “Clarke, sweety, you need to get looked at.” Her mother frowned at her, holding a clipboard and a pen.

    “No, I don’t. These kids do.” Clarke gestured around her. She watched as a couple of nurses took Aden away to look at his side and arm, throwing him a reassuring smile.

    “And they are, as quickly as we can manage,” Abby insisted, using that voice she always used when Clarke was being stubborn.

    Clarke nodded, and Abby relaxed a bit. But before the doctor could speak, her daughter did. “Yes, and I will wait until they’ve all been seen to.” She felt a bit guilty when her mother deflated, but she wasn’t going to change her mind.

    Abby was called away, and Clarke sagged against the chair she sat in with relief. “She’s pretty intense, huh?” Charlotte spoke up, turning her head to look at the older blonde.

    Clarke let out a bark of laughter, then winced when her ribs twinged with pain. “Ha, yeah. She doesn’t mean to be, but she still views me as the five year old that broke her arm climbing up the side of the house.” She grinned, and the smile widened when Charlotte grinned too.

    “Why were you climbing the side of the house, Miss Griffin?” James asked, getting up and taking Aden’s old seat.

    “Because my best friend’s brother threw my teddybear up on the roof,” She answered, looking at the few remaining kids. 

    Charlotte frowned, tilting her head. “That’s mean.” 

    “Yeah, well, I kind of deserved it. I kept shoving the thing in his face and singing really terribly about the girl he had a crush on.” Clarke grinned even wider at the memory. She’d slipped right at the top and tumbled down all the way to the ground. It was a miracle that she’d only broken her arm, really.

    “Wasn’t that just last month, Clarke?” A woman interrupted, and Clarke looked over to see said best friend standing there, covered in concrete dust with a smirk on her face.

    “Octavia! What are you doing here?” Clarke would have gotten up to hug her if she hadn’t been so damn tired. 

    Octavia shrugged, leaning against the nurse’s counter. “Just wanted to make sure you were okay.” She smiled softly, and Clarke nodded. Octavia was rarely serious, she must have been really worried. “But seriously, Clarke, weren’t you just teasing Bell about Gina just last month?” The smirk was back, and Clarke feigned a pout. She heard the kids laugh, and felt proud she’d at least done that for them.

    “No. I was teasing the both of them, because they’re disgustingly adorable.” She grinned, catching site of the teacher entering the room. Then her gaze flickers, because another woman just entered the hospital, and she looked a cross between anxious and scared and Clarke was moving before she noticed she had gotten up. “Are you looking for someone?” and she wanted to punch herself because of course this woman was looking for someone, why else would she be here when she didn’t look hurt?

    “Um, my brother, Aden. He was brought in earlier?” The woman looked around, and Clarke reached out with her good hand, touching the woman’s shoulder. Green eyes darted over her face, framed by brunette curls that had escaped the woman’s french braid.

    “They took him back to get him looked at, he’s okay.” Clarke attempted a smile, pulling out her phone. “You must be Lexa? I’m Clarke Griffin, I teach art at- I mean, I taught art at the museum.” Her brow furrowed and she typed in a number, putting the phone to her ear. She gave the brunette in front of her what she hoped passed as an apologetic smile as she waited for the ringing to be answered.

    “Director Griffin,” her mother answered, and Clarke had to smile. The woman never looked at her caller ID.

    “Hey, mom.” 

    “Clarke! Are you ready to come to the back, yet?” She sounded almost hopeful, and the blonde grimaced.

    “No, there’s still a couple kids left.” She shook her head, glancing around. “The blonde kid that went back, Aden Woods, his sister’s here.”

    “Oh. Okay, I’ll send Jackson to take her to him.” Clarke ignored the guilt that settled in her chest at the dejected tone of her mother’s voice. She knew she was only worried about her, but she wanted to make sure the kids all got taken care of before she focused on herself.

    “Thanks.” She hung up and tilted her head, smiling at the confused brunette. “My mom’s the director here. She’s sending someone up to bring you to your brother.”

    The woman was quiet the whole time, and she sagged with obvious relief at Clarke’s last statement. “Thank you. I’m sorry, yeah, I’m Lexa.” She held out her hand, and Clarke gripped it lightly. 

    “Miss Griffin, can I use your phone?” Charlotte called to her from the seats.

    She glanced back and smiled with a nod. “Yeah, just give me a minute?” She turned back to Lexa and then realized she was still holding her hand. “Sorry,” she muttered as she let go. “Um, it was nice meeting you. Your brother is an amazing boy, you know?”

    “I know.” Lexa smiled, then turned at the call of her name. “I’ll uh, I’ll see you sometime.”

    Clarke threw a smile over at her and sat back down, groaning at getting off her feet. She handed her phone over to Charlotte, resting her head back against the wall behind them. “Here you go, call whoever, I have unlimited minutes.” She briefly wondered where Finn was, but then she was distracted by James asking another question, and she turned her head to answer him with a smile.

 

**Lexa; Friday, 3:21pm**

 

    Lexa followed the intern through the corridors, her mind focused on her brother. Well, mostly. The blonde, Clarke, was there too, at the edges. Just enough for her to realize that she had been the blonde helping the injured before. Aden was her priority though, and she really needed to see how he was. 

    “Right through here, Miss Woods,” the intern interrupted her inner panicking, and he directed her into a room. 

    She had the mind to thank the man before he left, and then she was at her brother’s side, looking him over. He had a bandage on the side of his head and his shirt was off, revealing another bandage on his right side. His arm was wrapped up, and she fussed over him because he was her little brother and he was hurt and-

    “I’m okay, Lexa, promise. Miss Griffin made sure while we were stuck in the basement.” The boy smiled, but he stayed still to let her fuss. He didn’t get hurt often, and Lexa tended to freak out whenever he did get hurt. “Where’s Aunt Anya?”

    “We’ll have to find a way to thank her, then, won’t we?” Lexa finally backed off, satisfied that Aden was alive and well. “And she’s in the car with Tris, they didn’t want to come in. An thought it would be crowded.”

    “Yeah.” Aden nodded. Then he frowned, his brow creasing in thought. He grinned sheepishly when she frowned as well, concerned. “It’s nothing. It’s just, I was working on a painting of the yard and I think it got destroyed.” 

    “Oh, Aden, I’m sorry.” Lexa placed a hand on his thigh. She knew how much he loved his artwork, and he hated starting over. He shrugged, and she sighed, and then the doctor was knocking on the doorframe with a kind smile and there was no time to talk to him about it.

    She did the paperwork needed while they x-rayed his arm, and then put a cast on it. The doctor gave her prescriptions and instructions on how to care for his stitched up side and the arm, then sent them on their way. 

    Aden leaned into her as they walked, his eyes drooping from exhaustion. By the time they found themselves in the waiting room at the front, Lexa had scooped him up into her arms, one under his knees and the other supporting his back. He was asleep before they got to the car, and she put him in next to Tris in the backseat carefully before slumping in the passenger seat in front. 

    “He’s okay,” Lexa told Anya, closing her eyes. She spoke quietly, because Tris had also fallen asleep and she didn’t want to wake either of the kids. 

    “I told you. Pharmacy then home?” Anya started the car after they were both buckled, and Lexa nodded. 

 

**Clarke; Friday, 4:26pm**

 

    “Clarke!” The scolding voice ripped her out of the dark dream she had been stuck in, and the blonde jerked awake. She was still in the waiting room, leaning on Octavia. The kids were all gone, thankfully, but she had been so tired… “Clarke, come on, let’s get you looked at.” 

    She wanted to argue, because she was  _ fine,  _ but she couldn’t really feel her hand anymore and that worried her, so she followed her mother to an examination room. She gingerly held out her right arm, frowning at it accusingly. “I can’t feel my hand anymore, but I don’t know if it’s because I’m used to the pain or,” she shrugged, glancing at her mother. 

    She cooperated with the tests Abby runs, trying to move her hand when told and “squeeze my fingers, Clarke,” and “can you feel this?” and “stretch out your fingers, baby.” She tried, but she literally couldn’t move her hand at all. Her mother frowned at this, but said nothing as she wrote on a chart.

    Clarke kind of zoned out for the rest of it, her mind stuck on the images of the still bodies she saw. A couple of them weren’t so still at first, she had tried to help them. She wasn’t a doctor, but her mother had made sure she knew basic first aid, and she’d picked up some knowledge here and there from sitting in this very hospital after school when she was a kid. 

    Her mother tried to keep her there overnight, but the worse of Clarke’s injuries was her wrist, and she promised to go in periodically if she could just go home please. She was so tired, and hungry, and her head hurt. Aspirin, leftovers, a shower, and bed all sounded like heaven. She’d get her ‘scripts in the morning.

    She smiled when she got to the front of the building, finding Octavia there with a paper cup in her hand. “Come on Clarke, let’s go home.”

    The drive to their apartment was silent, and Clarke dozed in the seat. They were silent on their way in, both doing their own thing. Octavia unlocked the door, pushed it open, and Clarke trudged in after her. They were silent as they moved around inside. Clarke grabbed the aspirin and downed two of them with a bottle of water, then went to the small kitchen to find yesterday’s leftovers to microwave. She heated up enough for both of them, and they ate in silence as well. Then, after the dishes were placed in the sink to deal with later and Clarke was on her way to bed, Octavia did something not-Octavia-like. She stopped Clarke with a hand on her wrist, then pulled her close for a hug. 

    Clarke stayed still for a moment, shocked, because they didn’t do this. Not since they were kids, hugs just weren’t their thing. Then she heard something even weirder, and she snapped out of it. She held onto her best friend as she cried, whispering reassuring things into her dark hair. She wasn’t sure who she was worried about, but she tried. “Bell’s okay, O.” Clarke blinked, holding her tighter. “I’m okay.” Octavia just sobbed harder, and Clarke grimaced. “I’m sorry we worried you.”

    They stayed like that for awhile, until Clarke was literally falling asleep on her feet, and then Octavia helped her wash up and get into bed. 

    Clarke fell asleep holding her hand.

 

**Lexa; Friday, 6:18pm**

 

    The house she shared with her sister was quiet, and Lexa frowned and she sipped at her beer. Freshly showered and lounging on the couch, the silence was strange to her. Usually she could hear chatter from her brother, or her niece humming along to one song or another, or the two arguing. But the kids were asleep, and the only noise sho could hear from them was soft snoring from Aden’s room.

    She turned on the television, just for some background noise, and flipped the channel to the news. Lee Mills talked at the camera from in front of the museum, spotlights still illuminating the scene as investigators picked over the rubble. She kept the volume on low, not really wanting to hear anything about it. 

    Her mind drifted to earlier, though. To Clarke. The young woman had called the director of the hospital and Lexa had a feeling that she’d also influenced the speed of the doctor. She and Aden had been out of there in just a couple hours, rather than sitting in there for longer than necessary like a usual visit often called for. Maybe she should send her like, a fruit basket or something. Or something. 

    “Okay, I’ve seen your many many faces,” Anya starts, plopping down next to her with her own beer. “What has you so frustrated?”

    “The art teacher, Clarke Griffin, helped Aden and Tris while they were stuck.” Lexa took a drink and set the bottle on her leg, one finger picking at the label as she furrowed her brows. “I was trying to think of a way to thank her, but all’s I can come up with is a stupid fruit basket.”

    “Hmm?” Anya raised a brow, drinking some of the cool liquid to hide the smirk Lexa knew was tugging at her lips. “Trying to impress her?”

    “No.” Lexa shook her head and finished her beer, getting up to retrieve another one from the fridge. “I’m not, really.” Was she trying to convince herself, or her sister? “It’s just, I don’t feel like a fruit basket would do it justice.”

    Anya made a noise, a sort of  _ humpf _ , that Lexa knew meant she didn’t believe her. Thankfully the older woman decided to drop it, changing the subject to something Lexa considered worse than being teased about a possible crush. Not that she had a crush on this Clarke woman. She just knew that’s how her sister saw it. “Dad called.” 

    Lexa held back a groan as she sat back down, holding the cold beer bottle to her forehead. “What did he want?” Like she didn’t know; he was concerned for his granddaughter. She still asked, though, to get the conversation over with.

    “He’s worried about Tris,” Anya confirms, turning the bottle in her hand to look at a spot on the dark brown glass. “He’s coming over for dinner tomorrow.”

    Lexa did groan this time, lowering the bottle before taking a long drink. She really didn’t like Titus Kourt, but she tolerated him for Anya and Tris. The man hardly ever acknowledged her or Aden when he decided to show up, even years after their mother died. Not that he’d paid them any attention when she was still alive and married to him. “Do Aden and I have to be here?” 

    Anya scoffed at the childishness and snatched the beer away. “Alcohol is for grown ups.”

    “An!” Lexa whined, reaching for the cold bottle. “Fine, we’ll sit and act like we like him.” She pouted until the bottle was shoved back at her.

    “That’s all I ask,” Anya replied, smiling. “I won’t let him ignore you guys, okay? And the very moment he’s rude, he’s out. I promise.”

    Lexa sighed and leaned over, snuggling up to Anya’s side. “You’re the best big sister ever.” 

    “I know.” The older woman snaked a hand around her sister’s shoulders and sipped her drink, staring at the television as images from earlier flickered across the screen.

    “Flowers won’t work either, they’re tacky,” Lexa blurted out. 

    Anya snorted at her. “Still stuck on Clarke?” She pulled away, raising an eyebrow. 

    Lexa scoffed, turning her head to throw the blonde a disbelieving look. “ _ No _ . I’m stuck on thanking her for looking after my brother and niece.” 

    Nevermind that she couldn’t get the image of the woman’s smile out of her head. Nevermind that if she closed her eyes for too long, blue eyes were all she saw. Nevermind that she  _ was  _ sort of stuck on the artist, just a little.

    Lexa groaned again, and drank down the rest of her second beer, setting the bottle on the coffee table. She hated getting crushes, they made her feel like she was still a bumbling teenager stuttering out a confession.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A month after the explosions, Clarke is dealing with things her own way. Lexa finally figures out how to thank her, and Aden isn't holding down any of his meds. Finn makes an appearance and sends Clarke into a flashback of the attack.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter may be a bit intense, but the events that happen are important for the story to progress. There is some alcohol abuse, and a panic attack accompanied by a flashback.

**Clarke; Saturday, 11:14pm**

 

    Her wrist hurt, but she barely felt it through the numbing effect of the alcohol she drank. It was more of an annoying ache than the sharpness it usually was, so she ignored it in favour of accepting the shot glass slid to her across the bar. A woman with honey blonde hair smirked at her as she lifted her own glass, eyebrow raised as she put the rim to her lips and drank. Clarke copied her with a smirk of her own, then slammed the small glass down and sauntered over. Another pair of shots was ordered, and the woman, Nylah, asked her a question. 

    “Doesn’t that hurt?” She nodded at the cast on Clarke’s wrist, and the artist shrugged. Gave her the same answer she’d given her every weekend she’d been there.

    “Not right now.” Another pair of shots downed, followed by another and another, and the music was thumping in her head, the lights pulsing in time to the beat, and the vodka thrumming through her blood. She reached for the woman’s hand, smirk on display again. “Come dance with me.”

    She hadn’t seen Finn since the explosion over a month ago, and the chats she’d had with Raven revealed she hadn’t either. She’d tried calling  his cell, texting him, even dropped by his apartment. She had even called a couple of his friends, and he was nowhere to be found. It was all very confusing for both women, and they’d talked it out and agreed to just dump him next time either of them saw him, they both deserved better. 

    But Clarke still looked for him, because she liked him, she didn’t want it to end, this carefree happiness she’d had with him. Or maybe she just missed the distraction he could provide.

    Tonight, she was going to try her hardest to drown out the images that haunted her in her dreams. The images she saw every damn time she closed her eyes for too long. The destruction, the injured, the dying, the dead.

    So she was drinking. And dancing. And apparently, drunk-Clarke decided flirting was also a good idea. 

    She had her back to Nylah’s front, grinding into her as she danced with the music pounding out of the speakers. Nylah’s fingers traced patterns over the strip of exposed skin on Clarke’s hips, her lips whispered husky words into her ear. This was their little routine since Clarke had started going to this club. But then drunk-Clarke took it up a notch and turned around, wrapping her arms loosely around Nylah’s neck, her fingers finding the baby hairs at the nape. She was sweaty but uncaring as she pulled her impossibly closer, her left hand moving to trail down a slender neck, down a smooth chest, over perky breasts, down a toned stomach, down-

    A hand grabbed hers and stopped its descent, and Clarke looked up with a gasp. She honestly had not been expecting to be so bold, and now-

    “Let’s get out of here,” Nylah propositions, backing away with a firm grip on her good hand. This was a first.

    Drunk-Clarke followed without question, and if there was an extra sway to her hips as she walked, she chose not to acknowledge it. 

    Nylah’s apartment was just around the corner, above the Trading Post, where they stopped in to grab a few more bottles of some sort of liquor that drunk-Clarke didn’t read the labels of. Drunk-Clarke didn’t care what it was, just as long as she got to drink it. Drunk-Clarke didn’t even notice that Nylah had used a key to get into the store and that the stairs leading to the apartment were in the storage room of the store. Drunk-Clarke was too busy pressing her lips to sweaty skin, tangling her fingers in honey-blonde tresses, and tugging at articles of clothing to notice much of anything.

    The night was steamy and passionate, fingers leaving burning trails and lips leaving marks on skin. 

    Sober-Clarke woke up with a headache she remedied with the remains of a bottle of whiskey left on the floor by the bed. She gathered her clothes and left Nylah still sleeping, stumbling home with the last bottle clutched in her hands like a lifeline.

    Drunk-Clarke didn’t register the concerned glance her best friend threw her as she practically crawled to her bed, missing a shoe and her wallet.

 

**Lexa; Saturday, 11:37pm**

 

    Sweat made her hair cling to her forehead in clumps and her shirt stick to her back. She swiped at her eyes with the sleeve of her tee-shirt and finally sat back on her heels, tossing the rag in her hand to the bucket sitting nearby with a sigh. 

    “I’m sorry, Lexa,” Aden whimpered from the bathtub, leaning against the cool tile. His face was pale and pinched in pain, and Lexa’s heart broke at the apology.

    “Hey, no, it’s okay!” She immediately hopped up to sit on the edge of the tub, pushing her brother’s damp hair back from his eyes. One of his prescriptions had disagreed with him, and he’d reacted badly by throwing up his dinner. This was only the second bad reaction to any of his medications, but it was a little worrying. She’d take him in to talk to his doctor tomorrow. “None of this is your fault, okay?”

    “Okay.” He closed his eyes, slumping against the wall with his arm clutched to his chest. 

    “Come on, let’s get you dried off and into some jammies,” Lexa coaxed, holding up a fluffy towel. She wrapped him up tightly and lifted him out of the tub, setting him gently on his feet on the dark blue tile that made up the floor. He was avoiding her gaze, clutching the towel to his shoulders as he started a slightly wobbly trek to his room. She followed close behind him to make sure he didn't fall over or otherwise harm himself. She got him into his batman pjs and into bed, then went to drain the tub so she could shower.

    Once she was dressed in her own pajamas (soft sweat pants and an oversized tee-shirt), she slumped into the couch cushions with a book on her lap. With all the lights off save the lamp at her elbow, she got lost in the world the author created.

    She didn’t notice when Anya got home, and just barely managed to cut off the scream in her throat when the older woman plopped down next to her on the couch. “Hey, reading anything good?”

    “Jesus, An!” Lexa shut her book (after marking her place with the bookmark Aden had made in the third grade), and glared at her sister. “Make some noise when you move, won’t you?”

    Anya grinned wide and opened the beer in her hands. “I did. I was actually deliberately walking a bit loudly and everything.”

    Lexa huffed and set her book on the side table, turning to meet Anya’s hazel gaze head-on. “Are there anymore leads in the case?”

    Anya wasn’t on the main investigation team tasked with finding out what happened at the museum, on account that her daughter was a direct victim, but everyone at the station was in on it. Everyone made contributions, and everyone was kept up-to-date about leads and such. This felt personal to everyone, even if it was only personal to Nia Winters. The museum was one of the city’s most prized buildings, a historical landmark before Nia had taken it over, fixed it up.

    Anya took a moment to sip at the cold beverage in her hand before answering, staring straight ahead. She hadn’t told Lexa much about anything they had discovered, but this bit was going in the papers the next day anyway, so; “Did you hear about what that man had yelled just before the second explosion?”

    Lexa nodded, a shiver going down her spine. Aden had heard and told her.  _ “Wallace sends his love!”  _ Which meant this was deeper than just a typical terrorist attack. “Yeah, Ade told me.”

    Anya nodded and took a moment to take a deep breath. “Well, when they told Ms. Winters, she went deathly pale. Apparently she has an ex by the name of Dante Wallace, from twenty years ago. Before her daughter Ontari was born.”

    Lexa got up suddenly and went to the fridge, grabbing a beer for herself. “Are you serious? And this guy, this Dante, attacked the city because he was jilted?”

    Anya shook her head. “No, they never got that far.” 

    Lexa sat back down to let this new information stew, and she noticed a wallet on the coffee table. “What’s that?”

    “A wallet.” Anya smirked, leaning forward to pick it up. 

    “Obviously. What’s it doing on our table? It’s not mine and it’s not yours.” 

    It was a far cry from her own leather deal that always sat either in her pocket or on her dresser, and from Anya’s phone case/wallet that currently held her cards and cash. It was blue, a shade that looked familiar, and had one pocket zippered shut with obvious change within and the middle zipped shut as well. The wrist strap was well worn but sturdy, and the front pocket with a magnetized snap was empty.

    “Ah, yeah. A drunk woman dropped it outside the Dropship. I would have given it to her, but her tongue was half-way down some chick’s throat and they were on a mission, it seemed. I’m just gonna take it to the station and let them take care of it.” Anya shrugged, opening the middle compartment to look for an ID. “Clarke Griffin. Huh. Isn’t that the name of that art teacher that helped the kids?”

    Lexa snatched the wallet and ID and sat up, setting her beer down. “Yeah.” Clarke liked women? Wait, why was that the first thought that popped into her head?  _ No, Lexa, You need her address so you can return the wallet.  _ She gave her head a shake and grabbed the notebook that sat on the coffee table they used for grocery lists and jotted down the address on the ID card. “I’ll uh, make sure this gets back to her.”

    She ignored the smirk on her sister’s face and got up as she tore the paper from the binding, heading towards her room.

 

**Clarke; Sunday, 1:42pm**

 

    Her head swam in that way it did when she drank too much, but she didn’t care. She’d discovered that drinking blocked the sounds of the dying, the sounds of the explosions, the sounds of everything that had imbedded itself in her brain from the attack. So she kept a bottle with her as she sat in bed, staring at her laptop. 

    She was trying to apply for a new job, but she didn’t have the motivation to really look. 

    “Clarke, you have company! What are you still doing in bed?” Octavia breezed in and opened her curtains, switched on her lights, and screwed the lid on the whiskey she had been nursing.

    “Wha’ the hell, O, I was drinkin’ that!” Clarke reached for the bottle when Octavia took it away, scowling at her friend. 

     “You can finish it later, you’re new friend is waiting in the living room for you. Get up.” Octavia pulled the blanket away, then left the room. 

    New friend? Clarke didn’t have any new friends. She huffed and pulled the blanket back over her head, then screamed when it disappeared and was replaced with a splash of cold water. “Holy shit!” She sat up and gasped, her head clearing much quicker than she would like. A towel landed on her face, and she sighed and rubbed the fabric over her now-dripping hair. “Fine, I’m up.”

    She spent a moment changing into dry sweats and a tank and brushing her hair before she emerged into the open space of the living room. There stood a green-eyed brunette, an overflowing basket in her arms. It took Clarke a couple of seconds to recognize the woman as Lexa Woods, Aden’s sister. “This is for you, Clarke.” Lexa held the basket out a minute, looking down into it. Clarke blinked, a bit surprised. Why was this woman bringing her a basket of stuff? “Is there somewhere I can set this down? It’s not heavy, but it is a bit awkward to hold.” 

    “Oh, yeah. Here, I can take that. Um, thanks.” Clarke took the basket and set it on the counter that divided the kitchen from the living room. She ignored the twinge the action caused in her wrist. 

    “It’s from Aden, Tris, and the kids in their class. And their parents and families.” Lexa started to ramble, and Clarke couldn’t help but smile. She bit her lip to try and hide it, though, not wanting the woman to get embarrassed. “They made the thank-you cards in class, and there’s chocolate chunk cookies I made. Oh god, can you eat them? I mean, are you allergic to anything? I didn’t even think to ask. There’s some candles, too, but remember to blow them out if you leave the room and don’t burn them near curtains and the like. And everyone pitched in for the giftcard, brushes and pencils, and Andy’s dad owns that diner downtown, Sammy’s? And there’s a voucher for a year of free meals in there too.” She stopped suddenly, and Clarke watched as her cheeks reddened. “Sorry.”

    Clarke chuckled, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “It’s okay. If I don’t get the chance to, will you thank them for me?”

    Lexa nodded, then started like she remembered something. “Oh yeah, and this. My sister found it in the street, and since I was going to deliver that, I brought it with me.” She held out Clarke’s wallet.

    “Oh my god! Thank you, I didn’t even notice I’d dropped it!” Clarke stepped forward to take the object, looking through it quickly to make sure everything was still there. She glanced up and caught a green gaze watching her intently, and she blinked. “Is there something wrong?”

    Lexa’s cheeks flushed deeper, and she looked away, clearing her throat. “No, sorry.” She seemed to debate something in her head, then she took a deep breath and made eye contact. “Will you go to dinner with me?” Clarke blinked back at her, surprised yet again. What? “I mean, as a thank you. You helped keep my brother and niece safe, it’s the least I can do. Please?”

    Clarke blushed this time and chewed on her lip for a second. How could she turn down free food? “Alright, when and where?” She smiled, ignored how her heart was beating rapidly against her chest at the blatant relief that flooded the other woman’s face. 

 

**Lexa; Sunday, 2:47pm**

 

    She stood under the steady stream of cold water, staring at the far wall as she went over the events from earlier. First, she’d arrived unannounced at Clarke Griffin’s apartment. Then she’d rambled and rambled and oh god why. And then she’d asked the blonde out on a date. 

    No, not a date. Just dinner.

    She shook her head and sighed, shutting the water off and reaching for a towel. It was just dinner, to thank her for looking after Aden and Tris. That’s all. 

    She’d also baked the artist cookies, which she hasn’t done since- for a long time. 

    She dried off and put her clothes back on, then went to the kitchen and unpacked the plastic bags she had brought back with her. Chocolate chips, sugar, flour, baking soda and baking powder (they were out of both), chocolate bars, brown sugar, powdered sugar, vanilla extract…

    “Whoa, what’s going on in here?” Anya looked into a bag while Lexa avoided her gaze. “Are you baking?” She sounded shocked, and when Lexa glanced at her, an eyebrow kissed her hairline. “You haven’t baked since Cos-”

    “I know, since high school,” Lexa interrupted. She didn’t want to say or hear her name, not now, not after all these years. “I’m just in the mood for homemade chocolate chunk cookies, okay?”

    Anya eyed the baking sheets that still sat on the counter, used parchment paper still crumpled on them. “Even more than you already made?”

    Lexa felt her cheeks heat up and scowled. What was with the sudden bout of blushing? She wasn’t a school girl dammit. “I gave those ones to Clarke.” 

    “You baked cookies for Clarke.” Anya leaned against the counter and crossed her arms. 

    “So?” Lexa finished unpacking the bags and started measuring ingredients. It really wasn’t that big of a deal, honest. She mixed things together for a bit, then had to shove Anya over to get to a measuring cup she wanted to use. “Where are Aden and Tris?”

    “With Lincoln and his girlfriend.” Anya moved to stand in the doorway, leaning against the frame. “They’ll be back for dinner. And apparently cookies.”

    “They can take some to school with them, share with their class.” Lexa stirred the stuff in the bowl, scowling at the contents. 

    “Maybe ease up on the stirring, Lex, angry cookies aren’t as yummy as happy cookies,” Anya laughed, grabbing an apron and tying it on. “Put me to work, I’ll leave you alone about it.”

    Lexa sighed and pointed at the baking sheets. “I need fresh parchment paper on those, please.” They were quiet for a bit, focused on baking. Then Lexa spoke again, grudgingly. “I asked her out to dinner Friday, too, to say thanks.” 

    Anya eyed her from the oven, smirking.

 

**Clarke; Friday, 5:32pm**

 

    “O, I don’t know what to wear,” Clarke sighed, throwing another pair of jeans to the floor. She stood in her underwear in the middle of her bedroom, staring despondently at her clothes.  She reached for the vodka on her bedside table and drank a shot straight out of the bottle. Then she set it down, screwed on the lid, moved to the other side of the room. She pulled open her shirt drawer and scowled at the garments inside, like it was their fault she was having trouble.

    “Where’s she taking you?” Octavia smirked from her doorway, and Clarke rolled her eyes.

    “It’s not a date or anything, I told you. She just wants to thank me for looking after Aden and Tris.” She pulled out a red long sleeve shirt, then tossed that to join the jeans on the floor. Octavia hummed and pushed Clarke to the side, pulling out a blue tee-shirt. “She’s taking me to The French Door.” 

    “What! That new fancy place that just opened?!” Octavia tossed the shirt back into the drawer and pushed it closed, going to Clarke’s closet and yanking it open. “You need a dress. You wear dresses, don’t even argue.”

    Clarke sighed, putting her hands on her hips. “Fine. But I don’t want to wear anything too…” she waved one hand in front of her face, trying to come up with a word…

    “Too what? Too ‘please fu-’”

    “Exactly! It’s not a date. I’m not ready to date anyone, anyway. I haven’t even officially ended things with Finn yet.” She mumbled the last half to herself, chewing on her lip. 

    “What! Clarke!” Octavia spun on her, a black number clutched in her hands. “Why not?”

    “It’s a little difficult when I can’t even find him, O! He’s disappeared off the face of the Earth.” Clarke frowned, taking the dress from Octavia. It was a simple thing, sleeveless, a flared skirt. “This’ll do, thanks.”

    “I’m gonna fillet him,” Octavia grumbled, rooting farther in Clarke’s closet. She found a half-sleeved blue jacket and pulled it out, tossing it at Clarke. 

    Clarke snorted and caught the jacket, laying it on her bed. “You’re gonna fillet him, huh?” 

    “Yes. Now get dressed so I can see what shoes would go best.” Octavia tapped her foot and stared at Clarke’s four pair of shoes, pursing her lips.

    Clarke rolled her eyes and slipped into the dress, working it so it sat on her nicely. She frowned at her cleavage, not liking how much of it was showing. “The girls think they’re joining me for dinner.”

    “Jacket, Clarke.” Octavia waved her hand in the air, then turned to look her over. “and flats, I think.” She turned to get said shoes, which happened to be the same blue as the jacket, and then shoved them at Clarke with a nod. “There you go! What time is she gonna be here?” 

    “Soon. Thanks for helping me, you’re a lifesaver!” Clarke pulled her into a hug, which the younger girl squirmed out of after a minute. Clarke smiled, turning to start on her makeup. 

    Six o’clock came quickly, and there was a knock on the door right on the dot. 

 

**Lexa; Friday, 5:47pm**

 

    She was dressed and ready to go an hour ago, and now she was pointedly ignoring her sister, brother and niece as they snickered at her. She tried to ignore their teasing remarks. She really did. 

    “Alright, next one to say anything or laugh, gets stuck on firehouse bathroom duty,” Lexa threatened before she slammed out of the house, her wallet in her back pocket. She was NOT pouting. Lexa Woods did not pout. But she did sulk. 

    But only a little. 

    She wore black jeans (her nicest pair), a white button-up shirt tucked in, black suspenders, and a black suit jacket. Black and white converse adorned her feet, and her curls lay loose over one shoulder. She’d dressed nicely because it was the polite thing to do, when taking anyone to The French Door for dinner.

    She sat in the car for a few minutes before leaving, staring at herself in the rearview mirror. “This is not a date, Lexa. This is a thank-you-for-looking-after-my-brother-and-niece dinner. That’s it.” She nodded to herself and took off, leaving the radio off.

    She got to Clarke’s apartment early and sat in the parking lot for five minutes, checking over her hair and making sure her shirt wasn’t wrinkled. Then she went to the door and knocked, six o’clock finally here. The reservation she had set was for six-thirty.

    She sucked in a breath when she saw Clarke. The jacket and flats she wore matched her eyes, and the dress hugged her curves perfectly. Lexa forgot how to people for a moment, her eyes raking over the blonde. She may have bit her lip, but she wouldn’t admit it to anyone. 

    “You ready to go?” Lexa managed to speak, hooking her thumb over her shoulder. Nice, not even a compliment. Too late now, they were headed back to the car. “You look really nice.” This whole talking thing was not going well.

    “Thanks,” Clarke responded, grinning. “You do too.”

    The drive was quiet, and Lexa tapped the steering wheel as she stared out the windshield, trying to think of something - anything! - to say. 

    Clarke saved her, thankfully, with a question. “How are Aden and Tris?”

    Lexa took a breath and smiled, turning a corner. “Tris is just fine, thankfully. Aden is well on his way to being healed, but he’s allergic to the medications for his pain.”

    “Oh, I’m sorry.” Clarke frowned, and Lexa pulled into the parking lot for the restaurant.

    “Don’t be, it’s not your fault. He’ll be okay, his arm hurts less than it did.” Lexa got out and moved to open Clarke’s door before the blonde could, offering a hand to help her stand. She remembered to let go of her hand as she led her inside the building. She gave her name to the appropriate person, and they were led to a table in the middle. Lexa pulled out Clarke’s chair, giving her a smile before going to her own seat. “Wine?”

    Clarke blinked, then nodded. “Sure, thanks. Whatever you think is good.”

    Lexa nodded and opened the menu, scanning over it. When the waiter came to take their drink orders, Lexa ordered a white wine she knew was good. Then it was quiet again, just for a moment. Lexa recommended a few dishes she had tried before, then called for the waiter. She tilted her head and smiled at the man, ordered her own food, and when Clarke mumbled what she wanted, told him, “ _ Et pour la mademoiselle, le coq au vin.”  _

    “You speak French?” Clarke’s brows met her hairline, and Lexa grinned sheepishly.

    “Just enough to get by in a restaurant,” she admitted, tasting the wine that was brought. 

    Clarke laughed, and Lexa ignored how her heart skipped a beat. She wanted to hear that sound again. “So you’re a firefighter who can order food in French?”

    Lexa grinned again and shrugged. “Looks like it.”

**Clarke; Friday, 7:48pm**

 

    She was having a really good time. The food was good, the wine was good, and Lexa was the best date she’d had ever. 

    Not that this was a date.

    “To this day, Aden swears he saw the thing move by itself!” Lexa laughed, and Clarke liked how her green eyes lit up when she talked about her brother, sister, and niece. 

    Clarke laughed as well, shaking her head. “Those elf on the shelf things are really creepy, though, I could see how he came to that conclusion.” She sipped at her wine, only on her second glass. She wanted to keep her head right now. “My parents tried to convince me they moved by themselves too, when I was little.”

    Lexa smirked, leaning forward. She’d taken her jacket off and rolled up her sleeves, and Clarke tried to ignore what the sight did to her. “You didn’t believe them?”

    Clarke shook her head. “No. Well, I almost did, but then I stayed up to watch it one night, hidden behind the couch, and I saw my dad moving it.” 

    Lexa laughed, and butterflies danced in Clarke’s stomach.

    “Clarke?” She heard her name being called and turned, still smiling. Finn stood there, looking caught and surprised. It looked like he’d been on his way out, and had had to pass Clarke and Lexa’s table to leave. He could have skulked out, and Clarke wouldn’t have noticed, so why did he stop? “What are you doing here?”

    “Finn.” Clarke tensed in her seat, eyed the woman standing behind her - soon to be ex - boyfriend. “I’m having dinner with a friend. What are  _ you  _ doing here? Where have you been?” She stood up, because she really didn’t like being looked down on. 

    “Around,” he muttered, shrugging. 

    Clarke raised a brow. “I called you. Texted you. So did Raven. I went to your house, Finn, and you weren’t anywhere around here.”

    “Wow, stalker much?” The woman behind Finn scoffed, crossing her arms and leaning on one leg. 

    “No. I’m his girlfriend. Well, ex girlfriend, now, so enjoy that.” Clarke shook her head.

    “What, no, Clarke!” Finn stepped towards her, and she held up her hands, palms forward. “Listen, I’ve been doing some thinking. You’re the one I love, give me another chance!”

    The woman scoffed again and pushed past him, shoulder-checking him on her way out. “Ass.”

    “Wait, Jessica!” Finn reached towards her, his eyes wide.

    “Seriously?” Clarke was unamused. “Just leave, Finn. I’m busy.” She sat down again, looking to Lexa with an apologetic look on her face (she hoped). “I’m so sorry about all this, Lexa.”

    “It’s fine, you’re not the one that interrupted dinner,” Lexa waved off her apology, smiling.

    “I’m trying to talk to you!” Finn slammed his hands on the table, hard, and Clarke was instantly transported.

_ A blinding light, a loud explosion, screams of pain and fear. Something hit her head, she smashed into something else and sent her ribs screaming in agony. She landed wrong on her wrist, she couldn’t move it. People were dying and hurt and she couldn’t help them why couldn’t she do anything! Someone was crying, and her vision blurred, there was blood and rubble everywhere. She covered her head, trying to protect herself from falling debris.  _

_     She couldn’t move her arms, they wouldn’t do what she wanted, why- _

_     “Clarke!” A woman yelled her name, a bullet hole through her head. “Clarke, breathe!” _

    She gasped for breath, opening her eyes. Worried green eyes bored into her own, a pair of hands cupped her cheeks. “Lexa?”

    “You’re okay, Clarke, you’re here, with me. You’re not there anymore.” Lexa spoke softly, her thumbs stroking her skin.

    Clarke blinked and looked around, seeing people, but they were alive and well. They looked concerned, and Finn looked scared and guilty. Finn. “Finn, you need to leave,” she whispered, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath. She reached up and rested her hands on Lexa’s forearms. 

    “Clarke-” he started, but didn’t get far.

    “The lady asked you to leave.” Lexa’s voice was steel, but when Clarke opened her eyes again, her gaze was still soft, worried. “You okay?”

    Clarke managed a nod. “Yeah. Thank you.”

    Lexa nodded and stood, staying near Clarke. Clarke kept hold of Lexa’s arm, needing an anchor to keep her in the present. Lexa let her, thankfully, while she looked at the waiter with a raised brow. “ _ L’addition.” _


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lexa talks memories with her brother, Clarke and Raven talk a bit, a dinner is held and things about the attack on the museum are speculated about, and Clarke prepares to start a project with the seventh graders.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry I'm late, I had things going on and also a tiny bit of writer's block. But, to make up for it, I have two chapters to post today, so enjoy!

**Lexa; Saturday, 11:32am**

 

    Lexa finished spooning the dough onto the parchment paper and stuck the cookie sheet into the oven, setting the timer. Then, with nothing more to do but wait until the cookies were done, she went to the living room and sat on the couch between Aden and Tris. 

    “You’re baking,” Aden commented, not looking at her as she watched Tris move her avatar on the screen.

    “Yes,” Lexa confirmed, raising her brow as she glance at her brother.

    “Mom says you never bake, not since you were in high school.” Tris glanced at Lexa and raised her own brow. “Why not?”

     Lexa sat still, trying not to squirm under their scrutiny. “Just because.” She shrugged, not wanting to talk about it. She’d done so well over the years just ignoring the whole thing, and now-

    And now all the feelings she had shoved down to focus on training and schooling were floating to the surface with a vengeance. The devastation she had ignored, the feeling of complete emptiness, like a part of herself had died too. She tamped them down for now, again, determined to ignore them as long as she could. 

    “I like it when you bake, Aunt Lexa. It makes the house smell nice.” Tris smiled and focused back on her game.

    Aden was quiet, staring at the screen for a moment with a small frown. “It brings up some… not memories. Hazy impressions?” Lexa shifted to look at him, staying quiet to let him speak. “No wait, there’s like, one thing. One memory.” He looked up at her, his gaze distant and brow wrinkled in concentration. “You and Mama are in the kitchen, and there’s music playing, and there’s someone else… She’s sitting at the kitchen table, and I’m in her lap, and we’re all laughing. You and Mama are baking, and you keep slipping me and Cos raw cookie dough, even though Mama keeps scolding you and-” He blinked, focusing his sight. “That was the last time she was there, wasn’t it? She’s why you stopped baking.”

    Lexa pressed her lips together as the memory flashed in her own mind. 

    It was her senior year of high school, and she’d been dating  _ her _ for about a year and a half by then. Every month since school had started the previous year after winter break, she would join the Woods family for a weekend and they would bake. Cookies, cakes, pies, everything they could come up with. It had started out as a way for her mother to get to know her girlfriend better and had quickly become a tradition they had planned to continue for a long time. They’d made plans for future birthdays, future holidays, and had even planned out how to continue the tradition once the girls were in college. 

    That Saturday they’d been baking sugar cookies, preparing for the Christmas bake sale at the high school that coming Monday. Lexa had indeed snuck raw dough to her baby brother and girlfriend, earning her a few affectionate smacks from her mother via the spoon she’d been using to mix things with. They’d had so much fun, dancing and singing and baking. One of the rare times Ana Woods-Kourt had smiled so hard her green eyes glowed.

    “Yeah, Ade, she’s why I stopped baking,” Lexa admitted now, blinking back the moisture in her eyes. 

    Aden was quiet for a minute again. “It was Christmas music, wasn’t it? And Mama had such a pretty voice, and Cos couldn’t sing but she did anyway, and you smiled so big.” Then with a shaky voice, he whispered, “You look like Mama.”

 

**Clarke; Saturday, 11:39am**

 

    “Clarke, you need to stop overworking your wrist, or it’ll never heal properly.” The scolding tone of her mother made the artist frown. 

    “Mom, I have to work, I can’t just not pay rent.” Clarke had taken a job at the grocery store, stocking the shelves and working the register. “I’m not gonna dump all that on O.” Abby opened her mouth to say something, but Clarke interrupted with a shake of her head. “And I’m not moving back in with you or Dad. I’ll be fine, I take frequent breaks and I don’t try to lift things that are too heavy.”

    Abby sighed and stepped away, jotting something down on Clarke’s chart. “Alright. Well, I wrote you a script for a refill on your pain meds. Make sure you stop by the front desk and schedule your next check-up, two weeks from now preferably. And please, try to lay off the drinking, alcohol doesn’t mix well with your medicine. I can smell it on your breath,” The doctor pointed out when Clarke tried to argue.

    Clarke scowled, but nodded. “Will do, Mom.” She hopped off the exam table, kissed her mother’s cheek, and grabbed the prescription as she left the room. “Love you!” 

    “Well, thanks, but I’ve only known you for about five weeks.” 

    “Raven!” Clarke grinned, reaching out to hug her new friend. “How are you doing?”

    The brunette shrugged, leaning heavily on the crutches that supported her. Her left leg was in a brace that sat over her jeans. “Fine, considering this place smells like my grandmother’s bathroom when there’s company.”

    Clarke laughed, shaking her head. “You here for a check up, or did you just miss my mother?” She raised a brow, smirking. 

    “Neither, I’ve been stalking you and looking for the opportune moment to confront you about my undying love,” Raven deadpanned, tilting her head. “for the really crappy stuff this place counts as coffee.”

    Clarke wrinkled her nose and laughed again. “You actually drink that sludge?”

    “What else am I supposed to drink, I need caffeine!” Raven started hobbling down the corridor towards the cafeteria. “Like now. I’m exhausted, all this physical therapy is killing me.”

    “So it hurts?” Clarke followed, putting her good hand in her pants pocket. Coffee couldn’t hurt, and maybe it would get rid of the smell of her morning drink, too. When Raven shot her an unamused glare, the blonde chuckled. “Good. Pain means there’s hope, right?” 

    “I guess.” Raven shrugged and turned into the busy canteen, nearly toppling over when a body brushed passed her. “Whoa! Hey, watch where you’re going, kid!”

    “I’m sorry, I- I just- I need to go-” The girl stopped, her eyes wet, when Clarke grabbed her arm. 

    “Charlotte, are you okay?” 

    “Um, yeah, sorry.” The girl stood straighter, looking down at her shoes. “I just, I need to go. I’m sorry for almost knocking you over, Miss Griffin’s friend.”

    “Yeah, sure, whatever,” Raven muttered, watching the girl dash off down the corridor. “What was that? ‘Miss Griffin’s friend’? I have a name, dammit, and I know those kids heard you when you used it.”

    “Yeah, they did. Don’t take it personally, remembering anything from being in there is hard.” Clarke frowned, her eyes glazing over slightly as she was pulled back into the moment-

    “I get it,” Raven pulled on Clarke’s arm, jarring her out of the flashback. “Let’s get some crappy coffee sludge and sit for a bit, you look like shit.”

    Clarke managed a smile, allowing the brunette to lead her to the counter that had the coffee pots. “Thanks, Rae, you too.” Once they were seated with steaming cups of crappy coffee, Clarke sighed. “I saw Finn last night at The French Door.”

    “What were you doing there?” Raven raised a brow, sipping at her cup. “That’s a pretty fancy place, and you don’t exactly strike me as fancy.”

    Clarke scoffed, leaning back in her chair. “I can be fancy!” Then she frowned and thought about it. “No, I see your point. I prefer Sammy’s Diner any day, to be honest.” She took a drink of her coffee and made a face. “Ugh, that is not pleasant. And Lexa Woods, the sister of one of the kids, took me there for dinner. To thank me for looking after her brother and niece, who were both down there with us.”

    Raven kept staring at her, obviously skeptical. “Lexa Woods, the firefighter who pulled us out of the basement? Lexa Woods, the very attractive woman who you said baked you cookies that tasted like heaven?” Clarke suddenly regretted texting Rae about the gift basket.

    She waved her hand in front of her face in an attempt to push Raven’s focus somewhere other than where it was. “That’s beside the point. Finn was there. With another girl, woman? Female?” She shrugged. 

    “So what happened? I’m assuming you dumped his ass.” Raven adjusted her leg under the table and leaned against the back of her chair. 

    “I did.” Clarke nodded, then explained what had gone on, excluding the French speaking, including the panic attack. “Lexa snapped me out of it, though.”

    “Damn.” Raven scowled, nodding. “Right then. He still hasn’t answered my messages, so let’s see if he tries the same on me.” She shook her head, huffing out a dry laugh. “He used to do the same thing when we were kids, you know.”

    “What’s that? Tell one girl he loved her and chose her while one was right there listening?”

    “Well, not exactly. He’d tell the kids he hung out with that they were his very best friend,” Raven explained, swishing the liquid around in her cup. “He’d tell one kid he was his only best friend besides me, then turn around and tell another kid the same thing.” She shook her head again, looking up at the ceiling. “I should have seen it coming, honestly.”

    Clarke pretended not to see the wetness in her gaze.

 

**Lexa; Saturday, 12:43pm**

 

    After the slightly (very) emotional morning-ish, the three sat down to eat the sandwiches Lexa had made for lunch. She had the cookies on a plate for dessert, and celery and carrot sticks as sides. Lemonade for all, including herself, was in a pitcher with some ice floating in it. They were quiet while they ate, and they all looked over when Anya burst into the house. 

    “Whose rule was it that we don’t slam the doors?” Lexa raised her brow, setting her glass of juice down. 

    “Yeah, sorry, I’m in a hurry. I just stopped by to grab my off-duty-” She cut herself off and glanced at the kids. “Nevermind. I’ll be back later.” 

    Lexa jumped up, gesturing for the kids to finish eating as she followed her older sister to the front door. “An, what’s going on?”

    “It’s nothing, okay? I just, I need to check on something. Nia Winters is hiding more than an estranged ex.” Anya checked the bullets in her off-duty gun before holstering it in the small of her back. She grabbed Lexa by her shoulders and met her concerned gaze. “Everything alright?”

    “Well, yeah. We talked a little about Mama and Cos, but,” she said, then shook her head. 

    “Oh. Wow, okay, so, we are definitely talking when I get back then, okay?” Anya pulled a tight smile and squeezed her shoulders once. “I’ll see you later, alright? Don’t let the kids eat too many cookies, especially Tris. Sugar gives her nightmares.”

    “I know that, I won’t,” Lexa started, but Anya was already out the door. “Be safe.” She sighed and shut the door, going back to the table and sitting down. She stared at her food, no longer having an appetite.

    “Where’s Mom going?” Tris asked quietly, chewing on her lip. 

    “She said she had to look into something. She’ll be back later.” Lexa smiled, then reached for the remaining sandwich on her plate. She didn’t want to lie to them, but she didn’t want to worry them unnecessarily either. 

    She cleaned up after lunch, her brow wrinkled as she turned over everything in her head. She didn’t know how to sort her thoughts, and everything jumbled together. Dante Wallace and his supposed message, Nia Winters and her past and secrets, the bombing and destruction, the museum that was now just dust and chunks of concrete and metal, the kids who got caught up in it all, and Clarke. 

    Her mind stopped on the blonde, whose blue eyes were filled with so much pain and confusion when she left her the night before. Whose eyes had glazed over with panic when that man had hit the table. That far-away gaze she knew was a symptom of a panic attack filled with a flashback. Her own father used to get that look sometimes, which was why he’d started drinking.

    “Lexa?” Aden’s voice cut through her whirling thoughts, and she blinked, looking over at him. The water was still running in the sink, and a glass was clutched in her hand. She set it down in the water gently and turned the faucet off. “Are you okay?”

    “Um, yeah, I’m okay.” Lexa smiled and dried her hands off, deciding to finish the dishes later. “What’s up?”

    Aden shook his head and smiled, tilting his head. “Nothing, I just noticed you zoning out.” He leaned forward, resting his forehead on her arm. She wrapped him up in her arms and leaned down, kissing his head. He pulled away after a moment and scratched his cheek. “Hey Lex, is there a way for Tris and me to see Miss Griffin? I know we sent her those cards and things, but we want to thank her ourselves. And we wanna see how she’s doing.”

    Lexa tilted her head and smiled. “I’ll see what I can do, okay? But no promises, she might be busy.”

    Aden nodded and grinned, then spun and dashed out of the kitchen. “Thanks Lex! Tris, she said she’d ask!”

    Lexa shook her head and turned back to the sink, staring at the suds floating in the dishwater. She’d given Clarke her number, in case she wanted to just talk. But she didn’t have hers. Alls she had was the woman’s address, and she wasn’t about to go stalking her. 

    Maybe she could just ‘happen’ to be jogging one day near her apartment, notice she’s home, stop by and say hello?

    No, still sounds stalkerish. 

    Lexa shook her head and picked up the discarded glass from earlier, wiping it down with the sudsy sponge. She’d wait to be called or texted, like a normal person. And if Clarke never contacted her, well then she’d let it all go. 

    She ignored the stab of  _ something _ that pulled at her heart at the thought of never talking to the blonde again and focused on the chore. 

 

**Clarke; Tuesday, 5:17pm**

 

    Music played softly in the background, something from Octavia’s Spotify playlist. Bellamy and Lincoln chatted over a beer, and Gina, Clarke and Octavia worked in the kitchen. Well, Gina and Octavia worked in the kitchen while Clarke watched, because she could, ironically, grill food just fine, but she tended to burn things in the kitchen. 

    “We’ll definitely grill out next time, okay?” Octavia smiled as she put some chopped tomatoes in the pan she had on the stove. “That way you can make your deliciousness you call steak.”

    Clarke grinned, lifting the beer she held as a toast. “It really is only steak, O.”

    “Magical steak,” Octavia insisted, grinning back. The doorbell went off, and Octavia sighed when she glanced into the living room. “Clarke, the guys have disappeared, can you get that?”

    “Yeah, sure.” Clarke finished her beer and tossed the bottle in the recycling bin on her way to the door. She pulled it open and blinked, a smile coming unbidden to her lips. “Lexa!” Her heart thudded against her ribs, and she bit her lip try and dim her smile a bit.

    “Clarke! Um, is Lincoln here? We were invited to dinner.” Lexa smiled back, gesturing to the woman and two kids behind her. 

    “Yeah, he’s around somewhere with Bell. You know Lincoln?” Clarke stepped aside to let the newcomers enter, glancing into the kitchen. Glancing anywhere to avoid staring at Lexa, because that would be creepy.

    “Yeah, he’s my best friend and coworker.” Lexa stepped in and waved the kids towards the couch and game system Lincoln had set up. When they didn’t move, she frowned at them and glanced behind her. The blonde woman just shrugged and smiled.

     “I’m Anya, Tris’s mom.” She held out her hand, and Clarke took it with a smile. 

    “Oh! It’s nice to meet you, Tris always speaks highly of you.” After the shake of hands, Clarke smiled at the kids. “How are you two doing?”

    “Miss Griffin! Did you like the basket? Lex put it together herself!” Aden surged forward and hugged her, and she staggered back a bit, putting an arm around his shoulders. 

    “Did you like the cards we made? Casey, Alexis, and Daisy even made some for you, even though they were sick at home when we went to paint.” Tris hugged her too, and Clarke laughed and put her other arm around her. 

    “Yeah, I loved it all, thank you!” She looked up and caught Lexa’s gaze, still smiling. The brunette was blushing just a little, glaring at Aden. To avoid laughing, she looked back down at the kids. “You know you guys can call me Clarke, right?”

    “Will you play with us, Clarke?” Aden looked up, glancing at the game system.

    Clarke smirked, raising a brow. “Are you sure you can handle a pro like me?” She started towards the couch, glancing at Lexa and Anya to make sure they were okay with it. When neither of them said anything, she sat down and grabbed a controller, turning the system on. 

    “Looks like you’re being replaced, Linc!” Octavia called out, setting some sort of cheese and meat platter on the coffee table. 

    “Never!” Lincoln reappeared, slotting himself on the floor between the couch and the table, grabbing a cube of cheese and popping it in his mouth. He glanced back at Clarke with a grin. “I’ll play you for the favourite slot.”

    Clarke was about to argue, she was nobody’s favourite, but then Aden and Tris started cheering her on. She grinned at them and nodded at Lincoln, then gestured at the screen. “You choose the game.” 

    After about half an hour of intense playing the kids decided to call it a tie, and Octavia and Gina called everyone for dinner. Lincoln was pouting, which made Tris giggle uncontrollably. “Don’t worry, Uncle Linc, we only called a tie ‘cause it’s fun to watch you two compete. You’re both fun. You’re still my favourite uncle.” Bellamy’s phone went off, and he excused himself for a moment to answer. 

    Lincoln grinned at that and reached for the garlic bread. “I’m your only uncle, Tris.” Then he turned to Clarke and pointed at her with his bread. “I still call a rematch.”

    Clarke laughed and shook her head. “That’s fine with me, but maybe when we grill out. If I come over too much with O, she’ll kick my ass for hogging her you-time.”

    “That I will, but sometimes it’s nice to just sit around and play video games. We’ll talk about it later.” Octavia smiled, helping herself to the salad Gina had made.

    Bellamy came back and kissed Gina’s cheek, sitting down next to her. “Sorry about that, Nia is freaking out still. Apparently there are some missing files from her office, and being the newly promoted head of security, somehow it’s my fault.” He shook his head, piling his plate with a heaping helping of spaghetti. Clarke frowned, ready to argue that of course it wasn’t his fault, he wasn’t in charge when they went missing, but Lexa’s sister spoke up first. 

    “Missing files? Any idea what’s in them?” Anya leaned forward, resting her elbows on the table. 

    “Maybe it’s best to talk about this after dinner, while the kids are distracted.” Bellamy glanced at the two pair of twelve-year-old curious eyes that were taking in every word.

    Aden scowled, and Tris pouted. “We’re not little kids, you know.”

    “No, you’re not, but some stuff you guys don’t need to know right now,” Lexa told her brother and niece, wiping a bit of sauce from the corner of her mouth. 

    (Not that Clarke had been looking at her mouth. She just noticed the movement, that’s all.) 

    “We’ll tell you if we feel you do need to know, alright?” Anya attempted to negotiate with them, raising a brow. 

    That idea seemed to satisfy the both of them, and they all just chatted while they ate. Once it was clear that everyone was done eating, Lincoln brought out a layered chocolate cake, with thick cream cheese frosting. He cut it up and gave everyone a fairly large piece, then sent the kids to the living room with permission to use his Netflix. Then he poured everyone a drink, some flavoured vodka mixed with something that Clarke thought complimented the cake nicely. 

    Anya sipped her drink and looked over to Bellamy, tilting her head to the side. “So about those files.”

 

**Lexa; Tuesday, 6:58pm**

 

    “The only thing I know for sure about those missing files is that they only hold part of whatever was in that drawer. Whatever it is, she considers it more important than her kids’ health. I mean, she checked in on Ontari, then went straight to the files, demanding we find them.” Bellamy frowned, then took a bite of cake. “Dude, thish ish good cake.” He pointed at Lincoln, then shoved another forkful in his mouth. 

    Lexa took a bite of her own piece of chocolate heaven, knowing it was going to be good. This cake was Lincoln’s specialty, and she’d been after the recipe when they were in high school still. Before she stopped baking, anyway. She closed her eyes and barely held back the moan of satisfaction that threatened to escape her throat. “I have to get the recipe from you, seriously.” She looked at Lincoln, completely serious. 

    “It can’t be better than those cookies you made,” Clarke argued, and Lexa pointedly avoided looking at her best friend, sister, her best friend’s girlfriend. She focused instead on the blonde and raised a brow, waving her fork at her dessert. Clarke narrowed her eyes and took a bite, her blue eyes going wide as a noise that didn’t belong at the dinner table slipped past her lips. “Oh my god.”

    Lexa’s own eyes went wide, but then she managed to smirk and raise a brow. She ignored the heat that rushed to her cheeks and nodded once. “See?”

    “Oh, you definitely need that recipe, Lex.” Anya nodded, her face serious. “That way you can make it yourself and have another chance to hear-”

    Lexa kicked her sister under the table, hard, shaking her head. She was  _ not  _ going there.

    “Hear what?” Octavia asked, not able to keep the teasing smirk off her face. 

    “Nothing. Just, I like to bake, and it would be nice to make this myself, is all,” Lexa cut in, taking a drink of the mixture in her glass. The alcohol did nothing to calm her quickly beating heart but it distracted her enough to fight down the blush. 

    Anya hummed and sipped her drink before focusing on Bellamy. “Okay, so something that she deems more important than her own kids, or at least as important as. What do you think it is?”

    “Something to do with whatever happened twenty years ago,” he said, shrugging. “She mumbled something about Wallace looking for the files, or what’s in them.”

    Lexa wrinkled her brows and chewed her cake slowly, partly to savour the flavour and partly to think. She was betting that whatever was in those files had something to do with the bombing, even if only a little. As she was thinking of that, she remembered something they had found out about the bombs themselves, and she bounced in her seat a moment as she swallowed down the chocolate. “Those bombs, there was a significant amount of Ammonium Nitrate found in the fragments left over.” Five of the people sitting in front of her blinked, and Lincoln’s brow wrinkled. Lexa sighed and shook her head. “You guys should read more. Ammonium Nitrate is one of the most common ingredients in homemade bombs. These guys, or whoever is in charge of them, took the time to make these explosives by hand.”

    She took a drink while she let that information set in with the others, glancing into the living room to make sure the kids weren’t eavesdropping. Fortunately, they were in the middle of an intense battle in some game, completely focused. She looked back at the other adults in time to see Anya shaking her head. “Okay, so what do  _ we  _ do with this information? It’s not like we can do much about it, I’m not even supposed to be on the case at all.”

    “That didn’t stop you from chasing whatever lead you had on Saturday,” Lexa pointed out, hoping the detective would explain what that had been about. 

    Anya frowned and seemed to be in some sort of mental battle for a moment before speaking. “Winters is hiding something, that’s for sure.” Lexa sat back in her seat, smirking at her good luck. “I don’t know what, yet. But something else happened twenty years ago, something big.”

    “Well, what was it?” Octavia poured out another round of drinks (half of what they had before, since most everyone there had to drive home), and Lexa could see the small woman was bursting with curiosity.

    Anya stayed quiet for a minute, studying each person at the table. Then she sighed and sat forward. “Everything I say can never leave this house, got it?” Everyone nodded, and she continued. “I went digging a little, asked around in the town she’d left. Dante Wallace was mayor, believe it or not, and from what everyone could see, Winters and Wallace were happy together. A lot of people thought they’d get married before the end of that year, but then she just up and left one day. No explanation, she just packed up and drove off.” She took a deep drink and set the glass down, tapping the rim with one finger. “My source there says Wallace was into something big, illegal, and dangerous, and that Winters had found out. Source says she stole a bunch of files that proves he’s involved, or was. Wallace died about a decade ago, suicide.”

    “So then what did that creep mean when he yelled out about Wallace sending his love?” Clarke wrinkled her nose, looking at Anya. 

    (This was a serious discussion, so Lexa absolutely did not find the wrinkling of her nose adorable. Or if she did, she didn’t linger on that revelation for very long.)

    Anya pointed at her, lifting her chin. “Dante Wallace had a son, Cage Wallace. He was ten or  eleven, according to my source, when all this went down, so that would would make him about thirty now.”

    “So Cage took over his daddy’s business, then? At least the illegal part,” Gina mumbled, sipping at her glass. 

    “Seems like it. Any clue what this business is?” Lexa looked to her sister, frowning. 

    “No, my source wouldn’t go into detail over the phone. I might have to make a trip to Weatherville to find out.” Anya shook her head.

    “Maybe not.” Clarke spoke up, looking at Octavia with raised brows. “We might have a friend who could… find out for us.”

    “Oh. Yeah. Maybe.” Octavia nodded, her eyes going wide as a grin grew on her face. 

    “Who?” Bellamy frowned, sitting back in his chair. 

    Clarke grinned at Octavia, then looked to Bellamy. “A friend from school. Monty.”

    Bellamy nodded, grinning. “Alright. I don’t have his number, but I have Jasper’s and he’ll have it. I’ll call Jasper later.”

 

**Clarke; Friday, 1:28pm**

 

    Clarke clipped on the visitor’s badge after she signed her name, then picked up the large canvas bag she’d brought with her. Polis Middle School’s principal Thelonius Jaha, who happened to be an old family friend, had called her earlier in the week with a job proposition. It seemed the students from Gina’s class, and others, had been making noises about her art classes, wondering if they were going to start again. Jaha had been planning to start an art program at the school anyway, and wanted to hire Clarke. She wasn’t qualified to teach, though, so for now she was going to go in every Friday as a sort of mentor to supervise the kids’ projects. Pretty much what she had been doing before, but at the school now. She’d also managed to convince Jaha and the school board to allow her and the students to paint a mural on the east wall outside, which they would start work on next week.

    “You know how to get to Miss Martin’s classroom?” Jaha asked, smiling his kind smile from his office doorway. 

    “It’s Mr. Johnson’s old room, right?” The man nodded and Clarke grinned. “Yeah, I know how to get there.” She’d made the trip from there to this very office enough times when she was a kid, she better know the route.

    “I have to say, Clarke, it’s a little strange to be sending you there instead of receiving you from there,” Jaha admitted, crossing his arms. 

    Clarke laughed, hitching the bag up on her shoulder. “I don’t go causing that much trouble anymore, if I can help it.” She waved at him and left the office, heading down familiar hallways that were also so different than she remembered. 

    There, in that little alcove between those lockers, she had kissed her first boy when she was twelve. He’d tasted like bell peppers and onions, and had run off to brag to his friends as soon as they’d finished. That alcove is also where she’d kissed her first girl at thirteen, a sweet girl who’d tasted like green apple jolly-ranchers. 

    Her locker was that one, with the dent in the bottom. She’d put that there, when the girl had decided she didn’t like her anymore. That had been a suspension for a week, for damaging school property.

    Mr. Johnson’s old classroom, now Gina Martin’s, was the third door on the right from the end of the hall. She knocked on the door and waited for it to be opened, wary of karma catching up to her. When this had been her homeroom in the seventh grade, she and her friends would set traps for their teacher; usually the classics, like a bucket of water, a used chalkboard eraser, and once they’d had a water balloon filled with paper mache paste waiting to fall on the unsuspecting man (unfortunately, that one hit the principal and they ended up with two months’ after school detention).

    The door opened, and Clarke was met with a pair of blue eyes and a grin. “Miss Griffin!” Kara bounced in place a moment before bouncing forward and hugging the artist.

    “Hi, Kara! How are you and your sister?” Clarke hugged the girl back, then motioned for her to go in so she could set her bag down. 

    “We’re good. Did you like the cards we made?” 

    “Yeah, I loved them! They’re all hanging in the living room of my apartment, actually,” she told the kids, grinning as she started pulling things out of her bag. She pulled out the supplies she had brought and turned to the kids, hands on her hips and a grin on her lips. “Okay, so I have a new project for you guys. Ah, and there’s the rest of the students.”

    Gina stood to the side while the other two seventh grade classes squeezed into the room, chattering and eyeing Clarke with curiosity. The other two teachers stood with Gina by the door, shushing their students. Then, Gina stepped forward, demanding silence. “Kids, this is Clarke Griffin. She taught art at the museum, as most of you know, and now she’s going to be here to supervise the art program that Mr. Jaha is starting up. Please give her you undivided attention while she explains the first project she has for you guys.” She gestured to Clarke, who took her cue and stood up straighter, putting her hands behind her back.

    “Thank you, Miss Martin.” She grinned at her friend and nodded, then turned to the kids. “I have managed to convince Jaha to allow us to do this project, with a lot of reassurance that it would go well and be good for morale. So before I explain, I need to know that you kids will do everything in your power to make sure he never has a reason to cancel it on us.” After a bunch of positive murmuring and nodding and grinning, she nodded and continued. “Good. The project is a mural, that is to go on the east wall outside facing the park across the street.”

    More murmuring and excited chatter went around the room, even the teachers murmured to each other. Clarke waited a moment, then grabbed a black dry erase marker and turned to the board. She wrote three words in a row, underlined them, then separated them with lines to create three columns. The first word was ‘Unity’, the second ‘Hope’, and the third ‘Strength’. She capped the marker and turned back to the kids, smiling. 

    “I know this seems really cheesy and cliche, but this is it. The mural will be based on these three words. In light of recent events, I have realized these three words are very important.” The whole classroom went completely quiet, then, every person listening and thinking. “Unity. Because if the people trapped in that building had not pulled together, especially the ones in the basement, there might not have been as many survivors as there were. Hope, because without it, we wouldn’t be able to smile today.” Clarke pointed at each word as she spoke, then at the last. “And Strength. Because with unity, with hope, we are all strong. We can overcome this event and learn from it, do better because of it.” She took a shaky breath and uncapped a different coloured marker, this one blue. “Tell me, what things remind you of unity?”

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clexa progresses a bit, Lexa starts to realize she can talk about some things now that she didn't used to be able to, and another dinner is held to discuss more about Wallace.

**Lexa; Friday, 3:57pm**

 

    “Lexa! We’re gonna paint a mural at school!” Aden burst through the door, Tris close on his heels. He tossed his backpack onto the dining room table and went to the fridge, rummaging around inside it. 

    “It’s gonna be based off unity and hope and strength. Clarke wrote it on the board, and then we all went around and said what we thought reminded us of them. I said friends, ‘cause a group of friends is united against all things, and show hope ‘cause they’re so close and strength ‘cause sometimes there’s bullies,” Tris rambled, sitting down at the table and pulling her homework out of her own backpack. “Winn said Superman reminded him of all of them, and I guess that would make sense. Lucy said Clarke reminded her of them, ‘cause she was the one to help us and those others in the basement, and Clarke got really quiet and I think she cried a little, but no one said anything, ‘cause I think everyone kinda got emotional.” 

    “Sounds like you two had a very productive day,” Lexa chuckled, leaning against the kitchen counter where she could see both kids. “Clarke is teaching at the school, then?” 

    “Kind of,” Aden answered, sitting down with an orange in his hand. “Just on Fridays, like before but more often and at school instead of- instead.” He waved his hand and started to peel his fruit. 

    Lexa nodded and pushed off the counter, looking at the time on the stove. “Makes sense. Listen, I have to leave in an hour for a shift. Octavia is going to come and stay until Anya gets off of work, you two better not give her any grief when she sends you to bed.”

    When it came time to leave, she pointed Octavia to the cookie jar she kept on the counter, then left with a smile. She got to the firehouse in time to change and gear up, and her crew was off to a domestic fire uptown. 

    They fought the blaze for a good hour before they could subdue it even a little. Luckily no one had been home when the fire started, so the only casualties were the plastic flamingoes that had been too close to the house and melted from the heat. Faulty wiring was the cause, starting in the basement.

    That was only the start of the shift, though. After an hour of rest at the station, another call came in, and they were headed to the opposite side of the city. This time it was an old apartment building, one just down the street, Lexa noticed, from Clarke’s place. The crew managed to keep the fire contained in the apartment it started in (from burning food) and finished putting it out quicker than the last one. 

    Her shift lasted until nine the next night, with stolen naps in between calls and a bit of food when they could fit it in. The night and day were busy, filled with three false alarms, two tree rescues, one smoking truck, five more house fires, and one bonfire gone nuts. When Lexa finally left the station, she still had soot on her face from the last fire, and her hair clung to her sweaty head. She decided to put off her shower in favour of going out with Megan, however, when the woman invited her and a few others to go. 

    She took a minute to wipe down in the bathroom of the station before they left, then met Megan, Byrne, John, and Ryder out front. They decided to walk to the club nearby, leaving their vehicles parked at the station. As they walked, Lexa told them of the middle school’s newest project. They all made plans to go and see it’s progress after it got started, maybe volunteer some of their free time to help. 

    They got to the club, the Dropship, and went in. Drinks were ordered, and they all found a booth near the bar to sit in. It was still quite calm, music playing but not pulsing, and Lexa knew the place would fill up as it got later in the night. She pulled out her phone and texted Anya to let her know where she was and that she’d text if plans changed, then turned the volume down to vibrate and put it in her pocket. She sipped her drink and chatted with her coworkers for awhile, and then got up to get a refill when her glass was empty. There were more people there by then, and the music was louder. She got her drink and sat back down, staring out into the dance floor. 

    There was a flash of blonde, and her gaze narrowed in on one woman dancing alone in the middle. It was Clarke, her cheeks flushed prettily and her eyes closed as she moved with the music. Lexa watched for a few minutes, her coworkers’ conversations fading into background noise. The artist’s skin almost glistened, the blue dress she wore swirled around her bare legs. There were several people dancing around her, trying to get her attention, but she ignored them all. Then, as if she’d sensed Lexa’s eyes on her, she opened her own eyes and looked straight at her, meeting her gaze. Clarke’s lips stretched into a smirk, and she continued to dance where she was. 

    “Woods, what- ah, I see.” John chuckled, and Lexa felt her cheeks burn. 

    “You see what, Jones?” Lexa glanced at him, taking a drink. She internally cursed as her eyes fell back to the blonde on the dance floor, getting lost in pools of blue.

    “She’s very pretty,” he commented, his expression amused.  

    Lexa hummed and eyed the guy that was pressing close to Clarke, a little too close for her liking. She didn’t want to interfere, however. It wasn’t her place. So she sat and sulked over her drink, her work friends all watching with amused smirks. Until Clarke scowled at the guy, who grabbed her arm. Lexa frowned and got up then, starting to make her way towards the two slowly, keeping an eye on the situation. The guy had a hold of Clarke’s wrist, the one that was still wrapped up, and the blonde had an obvious look of pain on her face. 

    “Hey Clarke, this guy bothering you?” Lexa inserted herself between the man and her new friend, lifting her chin.

    “Yeah, actually.” Clarke finally managed to pull her wrist free, holding it to her chest while putting her left hand on Lexa’s waist. Lexa pretended this was normal, and continued to glare at the man scowling at them. “He failed to realize you were only watching for a moment to take a break, babe.”

    Lexa could play this game, she just had to keep it cool, right? She just had to calm her heart from beating out of her chest and not stutter. “Is that so?” She wrapped her arm around the artist, pulling her close. The man eyed both of them, skeptical. 

    “Didn’t look like a break to me. Looked like you had never been out here in the first place. Go on back to your friends, little girl,” the man sneered, reaching for Clarke again.

    “Keep your hands off my girl, pal.” Lexa pushed Clarke behind her and curled her lip, ignoring the beat her heart skipped at her words.  _ This is just a clever ruse to get this guy to leave Clarke alone, she’s not really your girl, Lex. Calm yourself, dammit. _ This guy was stubborn, and she hoped he left quietly soon.

 

**Clarke; Saturday, 10:29pm**

 

    Music pulsed around her, and she let the alcohol she had already drank before she left her apartment to loosen her up. She waved her hand at the bartender and slipped to the dance floor, letting the beat from the speakers wash over her. She closed her eyes, moving as she felt inspired to. Her dress swished around her legs, and she knew she started to sweat, but she was having fun and she didn’t care. 

    The back of her neck tingled, a telltale sign she was being watched, and she opened her eyes. She immediately locked gazes with a familiar pair of bright green eyes, and she smirked. Drunk-Clarke liked dancing while Lexa was watching, it sent a thrill through her. Drunk-Clarke wanted Lexa to come dance with her, but the woman just sat and watched. A man leaned towards the brunette and spoke to her, and Clarke watched as Lexa’s cheeks flooded pink. And  _ oh _ , that sight did something to her insides. 

    Lexa looked back at her, and she had the sudden urge to paint that intense gaze, immortalize it forever on canvas and hang it in her bedroom. 

    She felt someone press into her from the side, and she frowned at the man that had decided she needed a dancing partner. “Hey man, back off.”

    “Come on, a pretty lady like you shouldn’t have to dance alone,” he slurred, pressing closer. 

    Clarke scowled and backed away, her head now completely clear. She thought quickly and came up with an excuse on the spot. “I’m not alone, my partner’s taking a drinking break,” she said, trying to sound convincing. It wasn’t true, but she knew at least three people that were here that would totally step up and claim Clarke’s made up spot of partner in a heartbeat, just to see the guy’s face fall. The man grabbed her right wrist, gripping it tightly, and she winced as pain shot up her arm.

    “Hey Clarke, is this guy bothering you?” Relief flooded her system as Lexa stepped in front of her and the guy let her go.

    “Yeah, actually.” She clutched her aching wrist to her chest and put her good hand on the firefighter’s waist. “He failed to realize you were only watching for a moment to take a break, babe.” The ‘babe’ had slipped out, she honestly had only intended to play Lexa off as her friend. This would work too, though, if the woman played along.

    “Is that so?” Lexa wrapped her arm around her, pulling her to her side more firmly. Clarke felt her skin ignite where the other woman touched her, goosebumps erupting all over.

    “Didn’t look like a break to me. Looked like you had never been out here in the first place. Go on back to your friends, little girl,” the man sneered, reaching for her again.

    “Keep your hands off my girl, pal.” Lexa pushed Clarke behind her, and the blonde laid her hands on her back.

    “Make me,” the man challenged, shoving Lexa back. Clarke grabbed Lexa’s shoulders, gasping.

    “Whoa, is there a problem here?” The people that had been sitting with Lexa were suddenly pushing the man back, putting themselves in front of the two women. “Woods, is this guy harassing you and your girl?” The blonde woman lifted her chin. 

    “Nah, there’s no problem.” The man held his hands up and backed away, moving towards the front doors of the club.

    Clarke let out the breath she didn’t know she’d been holding, rubbing her still aching wrist. “Thank you so much for that, Lexa, Lexa’s friends.” She smiled a little, glancing at the strangers before looking to Lexa. “I didn’t think he was gonna let me go.”

    “I’m Byrne, this is Jones, Morse, and Ryder. We work with Lexa, and it was no problem. You kept a lot of people alive during the attack, kept them calm.” The blonde woman smiled, pulling out a card. “You ever need help, let us know.” 

    Clarke took the card and scanned it, noting the list of numbers on the blank side. The Polis City Fire Department logo and insignia were on the other side. She slipped the card into her secret pocket where she had her ID (a literal pocket in her bra, because pockets were important) and nodded, smiling. “I will, thanks.” The four firefighters left, clapping Lexa on her shoulders and back as they passed her. 

    “Are you okay?” Lexa turned to her, grabbing her elbow gently. 

    “Yeah, thank you.” Clarke looked to the ground, then looked up at Lexa again. She wanted to thank her properly, and she had to do this quickly, before she lost her nerve. She pushed up to her tiptoes, kissing Lexa on her cheek. When she pulled away, the brunette’s cheeks were flushed again, and her green eyes were wide.

    “Um, you’re welcome. Anytime. I mean- yeah, it was no problem,” she rambled, and Clarke giggled. 

    “You’re cute when you ramble, you know,” she spoke her thoughts out loud, blushing when she realized it. Geez, could she be any weirder or more awkward? Lexa’s cheeks were even redder, and she bit her lip (Clarke really wished she’d not, because now  _ she  _ wanted to bite it, and she wasn’t sure that would go over quite as well as the kiss on the cheek). “I mean, crap. Open mouth, insert foot, Griffin. Nice.” And now she was talking to herself. “I’m gonna, go,” she hooked her thumb over her shoulder, taking a step back. “I’ll, uh, text you sometime?”

    Lexa smiled, bright, and Clarke felt her breath hitch in her throat. “I’d like that. I’ll see you around, Clarke.”

    Clarke walked backwards until she ran into someone, then she blushed deeper and turned to apologize. When she glanced back, Lexa was still grinning at her, and she couldn’t help but grin back as she slipped out the door into the night. 

    She was so screwed.

 

**Lexa, Sunday, 2:13pm**

 

    Lexa was in the kitchen, stirring the contents in her mixing bowl, a dopey grin on her face. She sang along to the song playing on her phone, when she could relax her face enough to actually mouth the words. The scene from last night played in her head on repeat, starting from when Clarke kissed her cheek and ending when she left the club. She could still feel the blonde’s lips on her skin, even after the shower she’d taken the night before, and the cold shower she’d taken that morning after the very heated dream she’d had. 

    A very heated dream featuring one Clarke Griffin and those silky lips kissing more than just her cheek. 

    She needed to stop thinking about it or she was going to need another cold shower.

    “Mom, Aunt Lexa’s acting weird!” Tris called from the kitchen doorway, and Lexa just stuck her tongue out, adding the last of the ingredients needed for the cookies she was making. 

    “You’re right, this is weird. How long has she been grinning like a fool?” Anya wrapped her arms around her daughter’s shoulders, raising a brow at her younger sister.

    “All day.” Aden pushed into the doorway next to Anya, wrinkling his nose. “It’s a little scary, she hasn’t smiled like this in years.”

    Lexa rolled her eyes and waved her hand in a shooing motion. “If you’re not going to help me bake, then scram. You’re clogging my baking vibes.”

    “Baking- okay, you two go find something to do. I’ll get it out of her.” Anya kissed Tris’s head and ruffled Aden’s hair, sending them out of the kitchen. Then she turned on Lexa, and the younger woman tried very hard to dim her grin. “Don’t, don’t do that, it makes it even weirder.” 

    Lexa laughed, measuring out the dough onto her prepared cookie sheets.  “Me being in a good mood is weird?” She glanced at her sister and tilted her head.

    “A little, yeah, because you’ve been stuck in the brooding teenager phase since- since you were eighteen.” 

    Since Costia died. Lexa felt her smile slip a little, but it didn’t disappear. Progress, right?

    “You can say it.” Lexa finished one cookie sheet and went to the next, glancing at the oven temperature. It was almost hot enough, just a few more minutes more. She glanced at Anya when there was silence and raised her brow. “I’ve been in a mood since Costia died.” She was proud of herself for getting her name past her lips without too much difficulty, and was a little awestruck when she didn’t feel the usual pang of sadness and loss that had once attached to the name. 

    Anya’s eyes widened, and a surprised smile stretched her lips. “Wow. Yeah, you’ve been kind of a bitch since Costia died, actually.”

    Lexa huffed out a short laugh, finishing the second cookie sheet. “Yeah, I have. I’m sorry. Thank you for putting up with me.” She slid the sheets into the oven and set the timer, then grabbed a cookie from the plate it had been cooling on. “Have a cookie as a reward.”

    Anya laughed, taking the cookie and biting into it. “Okay, so what brought on this sudden smiley mood?” She leaned against the counter as she munched on her treat. Lexa thought to the night before again, to the kiss she got on her cheek, the promise of a text, the total flirting that had gone on. God, Clarke was seriously adorable when she was flustered, and the fact it had been her who had flustered the artist was an absolute bonus. “Okay, I revise my question. Who brought on this smiley mood?”

    Lexa sighed and grabbed a cookie for herself, knowing she wasn’t going to get out of this easily. Might as well just tell her and get it over with. “You know I went out with some of the crew last night.” Anya nodded and Lexa took a bite of the cookie. “We went to the Dropship, because it was close by.” She took a moment to eat the cookie, chewing slowly and swallowing before continuing. “Clarke was there, and-”

    “I knew it!” Anya grinned, looking like she’d just won a million bucks.

    “What? Knew what?” Lexa blinked, eyeing her sister.

    “You have a thing for our resident artist,” Anya stated, like Lexa didn’t know.

    “Okay, yes, she’s gorgeous and adorable and I may have a crush on her, but let’s be real. You figured that out when I started baking again.” Lexa raised a brow and bit into her cookie again. Anya just kept grinning like a dork. “Can I finish what I was saying?” 

    “Go on, then.” Anya waved her hand and hopped up onto the counter, sitting on her hands. “Tell your favourite sister what happened.”

    “An, you’re my only sister.”

 

**Clarke; Sunday, 2:24pm**

 

    Clarke hummed under her breath as she scrubbed the counter in the kitchen, ignoring the scrutinizing looks she was getting from Octavia and Raven, who both watched from the dining room. The two got along famously, and had become fast friends when Clarke had introduced them a few weeks back. Raven leaned over and whispered loudly to Octavia, “Does she do this a lot?” Clarke was starting to regret introducing them.

    Octavia shook her head, leaning towards the other woman. “No, this is new. It’s freaking me out.”

    “Me too,” Raven agreed. “Is she actually humming? Like a song? While she’s  _ cleaning _ ?”

    “Okay guys, shut up.” Clarke turned to her friends, attempting to glare. It didn’t work so well when she couldn’t stop smiling. “I’m just in a good mood, okay?” She tossed the sponge she’d been using in the bucket she had filled with cleaning solution and water, then pulled off the rubber gloves and tossed them onto the side of the bucket. 

    “It’s still freaking me out, though,” Octavia told her before grinning. “Find a new guy?”

    Clarke shook her head, turning to the fridge and grabbing out the pitcher of iced tea she had made a few hours before. “Nope.” It was the truth, but she knew O would read into any sort of expression she let slip, so she avoided the younger woman’s gaze.

    Not that there was anything to read, really. Lexa just, intrigued her.

    “Who’s Lexa?” Octavia asked, and Clarke froze. She’d said that out loud, hadn’t she?

    “Lexa Woods intrigues you?” Raven snickered.

    “Lexa Woods? As in Lincoln’s best friend Lexa? As in firefighter Lexa that took you to the French Door?” Octavia was suddenly right next to Clarke, reaching around her to grab the pitcher from her hand. Clarke frowned and turned to get glasses from the cupboard. “As in the Lexa that baked you cookies? Which, by the way, she hadn’t baked since high school, Lincoln says something happened and she just stopped.”

    Clarke frowned deeper and set three glasses down. “Okay, so? I haven’t played guitar since high school. Sometimes we just drop things.” Although, now that she thought about it, she kind of wanted to pick up her old acoustic and see what she could pick out. 

    Octavia just hummed as she poured the tea, smirking. “Right.”

    “Seriously,” Clarke insisted, then handed a full glass to Raven. She picked up her own glass and sat at the table, pulling her sketchbook closer so she could study the page she had been working on. She was trying to sketch out a few ideas she had for the Polis Middle School mural, so that the kids could vote on their favourites and maybe add their own ideas. 

    “Why does Lexa Woods intrigue you? You’ve seen her like, twice.” Octavia sat next to the blonde, looking at the sketchbook.

    Clarke sighed, flipped the book closed, and turned to her friends. They weren’t going to leave her alone until she spilled all, were they? “She was at the Dropship last night.” She told them what had happened with the creep that had grabbed her, how Lexa had played along with her to get him to leave. She watched in horrified acceptance as sly grins grew on the two women’s faces after she told them she’d kissed her cheek, and was about to defend herself when her phone rang. “Oh thank God. Hello?” She answered it, looking up to the ceiling to avoid looking at her friends.    


    “ _ Clarke? It’s Monty, Monty Green? Jasper said Bellamy said you needed to talk to me?” _ The voice on the other end was a bit hesitant, and Clarke avoided groaning. Of course she’d be left with this.

    “Yeah, hold on a sec.” She lowered her phone and looked to Octavia, who was now more curious than devious. “It’s Monty. I’m gonna invite him over for a meeting, will you text the others to get a good time?” That way she wasn’t the one stuck with handling everything. Octavia nodded and pulled her phone out, doing as Clarke had asked and whispering to Raven. Clarke raised her phone again and put on a smile. “Hey, sorry about that, I had to find somewhere a little quieter to talk.”

_ “It’s no problem. So what’s up?” _

    “I actually can’t explain very much over the phone. We need your,” Clarke tilted her head, “expertise. With computers. Do you have time to come over sometime-”

    “So far, today is the only day everyone has off,” Octavia whispered.

    “Today? Like, in a few hours? There’ll be food. You can bring Jasper, it’ll be like a kind of reunion.” Clarke grinned, matching Octavia’s. She knew Jasper would be part of the deal anyway, the others would just have to get over it.

    “ _ Sure, I can do that. Text me your address, and I’ll be over around five.”  _

    Clarke exchanged goodbyes and hung up, then texted Monty her address. Raven raised a brow. “Do I need to go home by then?”

    “What? No.” Clarke shook her head, setting her phone down. “Not unless you don’t want to get involved.” 

    “Involved in what?” As cautious as Raven sounded, she was also obviously curious, and Clarke took a breath.

    “It has to do with the attack on the museum.”

    Raven was quiet for a minute, then she slumped back into the chair. “I’m gonna need something stronger than tea for this conversation.”

    Clarke nodded, getting up and going to the stash of liquor she kept above the fridge. She was going to need something stronger too. She pulled out two different bottles -one vodka, one whiskey- and held them up, gesturing to the bottle of tequila still in the cupboard. “Pick your poison.”

 

**Lexa; Sunday, 4:57pm**

 

    Lexa tapped her fingers on her leg as Anya parked the car, staring out of the windshield. It’s wasn’t like she was nervous or anything, really, she wasn’t. Not about seeing Clarke, anyway. She was more nervous about what they were all about to get themselves into. Whatever Wallace was into, he didn’t want anyone finding out. 

    “Come on, let’s go in.” Anya turned the car off and got out, grabbing the container of cookies Lexa had insisted on bringing. Aden and Tris were staying at a friend’s house for the evening.

    “Right, yeah, we should go in.” Lexa got out and took a moment to breathe, then started leading Anya towards Clarke’s apartment. She knocked and waited, and was greeted by a grinning Clarke. Lexa smiled, grabbing the container of cookies and held them up. “Hey, we brought cookies.” 

    “Oooh, homebaked heaven, yes please!” Clarke reached for the container and stepped to the side. “Come in, we’re just waiting on Monty and Jasper.”

    “Who’s Jasper?” Anya frowned, toeing her shoes off at the door. Lexa copied her and rolled her eyes, because if Clarke trusted him, who cared who he was?

    “Monty’s right hand man, they don’t do much without the other. Been that way since middle school.” Clarke grinned wider and opened the container, taking out a cookie. She bit into it, moaned, and put the lid back on. 

    Lexa looked around the apartment in an attempt to distract herself. Octavia was at the table chatting with her brother and Gina, and there was a woman Lexa didn’t know lounging on the couch with her left leg propped up on the coffee table. Lincoln was in the kitchen, opening pizza boxes and a package of paper plates. Lexa joined him, followed by Clarke with the cookies. Two young men were let in by Octavia, and they beelined to Clarke, giving her hugs and cheering about the pizza.

     Soon, everyone had pizza on plates, cookies in napkins, and beers in their hands. They all sat around the tables (dining room and coffee), and the meeting was called to order pretty quickly. Bellamy was the first to speak, after a sip from his beer. He addressed the two men, whom Lexa assumed were Monty and Jasper. “Okay, so we’ve stumbled on something, something that may be the cause of the attack on the museum.”

    Clarke rolled her eyes and set her pizza slice down. She explained what they had all talked about at Lincoln’s the Tuesday before, then took a breath. “What we need from you, Monty, if you’re okay with it, is simple. Well, simple for you, I think. We need to find out what Cage Wallace is up to.”

    “So you want me to hack into what, Weatherville’s government system, and see if they have anything on him?” The Asian man sat forward, leaning his elbows on the dining room table and steepling his fingers.

    “Yes, exactly. Or, where ever. Maybe his personal accounts?” Clarke picked up her slice and took a bite, chewing thoughtfully. 

    Well, Lexa thought she looked thoughtfully, not that she was really watching that closely or anything.

    “I can do that,” Monty said, sitting back and grinning at his friend, Jasper. He reached his hand out, and Jasper slapped it twice with a grin as wide as Monty’s. “I’ll get started tomorrow morning.”

    “Thank you, Monty! You’re awesome.” Clarke grinned and toasted her beer at him.

    “It’s no problem, seriously. This psycho tried to blow up my friends, I’ll do anything and everything I can to help bring him down.”

    Everyone finished their meal in silence, each in their own thoughts, before bidding Clarke and Octavia goodbye and leaving. Anya and Lexa and the other woman Lexa didn’t know were the last ones there, other than Lincoln. Anya was eyeing the stranger, and Lexa rolled her eyes. 

    “Right, you guys don’t know me. I’m Raven, I was the one who’s leg was crushed under a steel beam in the basement. By the way, Woods, thanks for helping to get me out.” The woman grinned, holding her hand out. Lexa shook and and smiled back.

    “It was no problem, I’m glad to see you’re okay.” She did remember her, now that she thought about it. The Latina had been quiet most of the time they’d been working to get her free, snarking about something when they finally got the beam off. She couldn’t remember exactly what she’d said though.

    “Thanks.” She shook Anya’s hand too, and then waved at Clarke and Octavia. “I have to go, there’s a few things I have to do tonight before I start my shift at the shop tomorrow. See you guys later.” She walked out, limping slightly down the hall.

    “She won’t spread this around, either.” Clarke spoke up, and Lexa and Anya both turned their attention to her. “About us all looking into things, I mean. She’s got a grudge against Wallace, now, and wants to see him go down.”

    Lexa smiled and nodded, and Anya just shrugged. “It’s whatever, I’ll just deny any involvement if my boss finds out.” She smiled and left, waving her hand over her shoulder. “Don’t be long, Lex, or I’ll make you walk home!”

    Lexa shook her head and smiled at Clarke again. “Sorry about her, she’s just… Anya.” That was so not a good enough reason, what the hell…

    “It’s okay, I get it. Plus, you two have Aden and Tris to protect, too. So if at any time you guys need to pull out, just let us know.” Clarke smiled and bit her lip. “Otherwise, I’ll keep you updated on what Monty finds, and if Bellamy finds out anything more.”

    “Okay. I’ll see you later, then.” Lexa waved her hand.

    “Yeah, see you later.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> comments fuel my inspiration, and Kudos fuel my motivation :)


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lots of feels. 
> 
> TRIGGER WARNING, DEPRESSION, ATTEMPTED SUICIDE

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I know I'm like, really late, but this chapter was really hard to write once I got there. 
> 
> To be clear, this also serves as a trigger warning for those who suffer from depression. This chapter includes a detailed description of depression and what is going through Clarke's head while she has what I call an episode. It also includes a suicide attempt. Both these things occur near the end of the chapter in the last couple of parts. This chapter also includes alcoholism and a panic attack. 
> 
> Please please don't read this if you're easily triggered, I don't want anyone to harm themselves or fall into that deep dark abyss I myself know too well. If you'd like a summary of the chapter, I will provide one at the beginning of the next chapter when I get it posted.

**Clarke; Saturday, 3:15am**

 

    Clarke reveled in the burn in her throat as she swallowed down the clear liquid she’d poured herself. She told herself she would stop drinking before the bottle was empty completely. Told herself this was the only way to stop the images, to stop the panic, to create a different numbness, one she could control. Told herself this was the only way she was going to get any sleep tonight, with O at Lincoln’s and the apartment empty and dark. Told herself this was the only way to keep the nightmares at bay.

    She felt the burn go down, down, down, into her belly, linger there and offer a false sense of warmth. She felt the relief when the storm roared outside, shook the building, and she wasn’t pulled into a flashback of the explosion. She ignored the flash of shame when she poured herself another glass and drank it down, followed by another, and another, and another until the bottle was empty. 

    She’d forgotten that sometimes, when she was alone and drunk, she would think. She would remember things without being pulled back into the situation, and somehow, somehow, that was worse than the flashbacks. Because she knew it was over, she knew she was here, and she still watched those people die in front of her, she still saw the bodies of those three kids that got caught in the first blast, she still felt the terror she had then. But she was at home, she could clearly see the couch there, the counter there, the television that she kept off. Being in the past seemed worse than her past being in her present. At least when her past invaded her present, she could blame the trauma, the situation, brush it off as something she couldn’t control. When she went to her past, however, she was in control. She knew she could focus on something else, but drunk-Clarke wanted to focus on every single way she had failed that day, every single thing she could have done,  _ should  _ have done, to save those that had died.

    She got up from the table and went to the stash she kept above the fridge, scowling at having to reach up so high, making a mental note (that she’d most likely forget by the morning) to relocate the bottles to somewhere with easier access. Her world spun and tilted, her vision blurred and doubled, and she slumped against the fridge face-first. She let out a string of curses and planted her hands on the fridge on either side of her face, pushing up so only the tip of her nose and her forehead rested against the cool surface. She focused on breathing for a minute, squeezed her eyes closed to settle the dizziness. 

    She never got there, as the images of destruction turned into images of  _ him _ , of  _ Finn _ . His smirk when she’d first met him in that cafe, his gaze that seemed to encompass her entire being and make her feel as though she were the most important person in the whole room, if not the city. His laugh when she’d argued her point on why  _ she  _ should get that last muffin instead of  _ him _ , and the look of wonder in his eyes as he bought the muffin, but handed it to her. The look of absolute delight when she’d tore the damn thing in half and handed one part to him, along with her number. 

    She should have known there was someone else. She should have  _ seen it!  _ Looking back, it was so obvious. When he’d back out of going to Sammy’s for lunch with a tilt of his lips and a “Sorry, babe, I’m in the middle of a project. Maybe next week.” When he’d refuse to go on walks with her downtown when it first snowed, one of her favourite things to do. When he’d insist on a night in rather than a date out somewhere nice. When he’d distracted her from going with him to the shop when his car had died. Because that’s where Raven worked, at the shop on this side of the tracks.

    She slammed her palm into the surface of the fridge, harder,  _ harder,  _ then slid to the floor as the last few months finally caught up with her and she sobbed. She weeped, she screamed, she cried, slamming her palms into whatever surface she could reach because it wasn’t  _ fair!  _ Just when she’d been able to relax, to enjoy her life, to laugh freely without feeling the guilt she’d always felt after her parents’ divorce, it all fell apart, everything all at once and she should have seen it coming.

    She couldn’t remember why her hands were stinging by the time the sun came up, and she couldn’t quite remember why her throat was sore, or why her eyes ached, or why the muscles in her stomach smarted, but she saw the empty bottle on the table and guessed. She saw the empty bottle and cried again, because she knew, she  _ knew,  _ this wasn’t healthy. But she didn’t know any other way of dealing, of coping. So she pushed herself up, grabbed a bottle from her stash, cracked it open, and drank deeply. She sighed at the burn that lingered, then staggered her way to the couch and plopped down. 

    She told herself she’d stop drinking before this bottle was empty.

 

**Lexa; Saturday, 3:37am**

 

    The fan was blowing softly, the room was perfectly dark with just enough light from the window to see the silhouettes of the various furniture scattered around. But Lexa still couldn’t sleep, so she slipped out of bed, grabbed her robe and headed down to the kitchen. She grabbed a glass, filled it with tap, drained it, filled it again. The feelings she’d been suppressing since that fateful day in December, all those years ago, were coming to the surface with a vengeance, and she couldn’t push them back down this time. She knew she shouldn’t be alone, she was scared what would happen if she tried to deal with this alone.  So she left the glass full on the counter and went back up the stairs, lingering outside her sister’s bedroom door for a moment before she tapped on the wood lightly. She picked at the hem of her night shirt, and as she expected, a mumbled “wha’s wrong, who’sit?” drifted out, and she let herself in.

    Anya sat up, bleary eyed with tangled hair and creases on her cheeks, and squinted at Lexa. “Lex?”

    “I- I’m sorry, An, just, nevermind.” This was a mistake, her sister had enough on her plate without having to worry about her too. “I’ll go back to bed, I-”

    “No, Lex, c’mere.” The detective held her hand out and beckoned for the brunette to come closer, the other hand wiping the sleep from her face. “What’s wrong?” Because An always knew something was wrong, ever since Ana and Titus told them they’d be sisters ten years ago. Lexa didn’t say anything as she went to sit on the edge of the bed, avoiding her sister’s gaze. Anya huffed and pulled on her arm until she had her arms wrapped around the younger girl tightly, had her head tucked on her shoulder under her chin. Lexa stayed very very still, trying to hold back the tears, trying to ignore the sudden squeezing in her chest. “Do you wanna talk about it?” Lexa shook her head, wrapping her arms around Anya’s waist. The older woman was quiet for a minute, her thumbs absentmindedly stroking small circles where they rested. Then, “Is it about Costia?”

    And Lexa erupted, sobs ripping out of her chest into her sister’s shoulder. It’s been eight years already, but finally,  _ finally,  _ it’s catching up to her. 

    Oh god, she’s  _ dead.  _ She’s  _ gone, she burned, and she couldn’t save her, it’s all her fault, she should have ran faster, she should have noticed sooner, she should have- _

__ “It wasn’t your fault, Lex. You were asleep, none of us knew-” and Anya is holding back her own tears, because she’d been on the front porch, she’d seen the smoke, she’d been the one to call 911. If it was anyone’s fault, it was her’s, but it wasn’t because Tris had been down with a fever and Anya had bundled the kid up and stood on the porch to help cool her off a little, she couldn’t just go over there and see. She’d called Cos’s phone, she’d called the house phone, she’d blown up Cos’s parents’ phones, but Tris was sick and she couldn’t just leave her little girl, so she’d prayed and called and called and woke Lexa when the fire truck pulled in. 

    Lexa cried for awhile, clinging to Anya tightly as the memories bombarded her, of the fire, of the hospital visits. Of the doctor that spoke in a calm but sad voice, telling them Cos’s mother had died soon after they got there. That Cos was severely burned, because she’d been asleep on the couch right next to where the fire had started, and it was a miracle she was still alive. 

    She cried as her mind lingered on the broken image of her girlfriend with her burned curls and her body wrapped in bandages and all those wires and tubes hooked up to her. As her mind lingered even longer on the moment of Costia’s last breath, with Cos’s father holding one hand and Lexa the other, their eyes wet as Costia smiled in relief just before she flatlined.

    She cried, and then she stopped, suddenly, as if a switch had been flipped. Her breath was shaky, and she felt so much better, so much lighter. She took a deep breath and wiped her face on her robe. “Thanks.”

    “For what?” If Anya’s voice held the evidence of tears, both women decided to ignore it. Anya didn’t like admitting when she was hurting or feeling, and she wanted to talk about her own emotions, she would.

    “For being here. For being my sister.” Because she didn’t have to be her sister, she could have just brushed her and Aden off as extra people at the dinner table every night. Lexa moved her head back to look at An’s face. Anya just smiled and leaned down, kissing Lexa’s forehead. The firefighter sighed and snuggled back into her sister’s embrace, looking out into the dark room. She could faintly hear her fan running in her own bedroom, and she focused on the sound for a moment. “I really like Clarke.” 

    “I know. What are you going to do about it?” Anya was mumbling, half asleep.

    “I dunno. She just dumped her boyfriend, she’s probably not ready for anything else right now. And I don’t even know if she’s into girls, knowing my luck she’s completely straight-”

    “Lex,” Anya interrupted, shifting to look down at her little sister. “Calm down. For one thing, when I found her wallet, her tongue was down some chick’s throat and her hands were-”

    “I don’t want to hear more, please shut up.” Lexa pressed her face into Anya’s shoulder with a groan, trying to purge her mind of the image of Clarke with some other woman. 

    Anya chuckled, settling back against her pillows. “My point is, she’s most likely not straight. What would it hurt to go for it?”

    “Me. I don’t- I-” Lexa sighed.

    “I get it. But still. You won’t know til you try, right?”

    Lexa was quiet, and she drifted off to sleep with thoughts of a certain blonde dancing through her head.

 

**Clarke; Sunday, 2:12pm**

 

    She slumped against the one pillow that always sat on those examination tables, her right wrist sitting in her lap and her left picking at a hole in her jeans. Octavia sat in a rolly chair nearby with a scowl on her lips and concern mixed with guilt flooding her dark eyes. “O, it’s not your fault. I’m a big girl, I-”

    “I shouldn’t have stayed so long at Lincoln’s,” Octavia interrupted, her leg bouncing and her hands clenching into fists. She’d panicked when she’d gotten home and found her best friend passed out on the floor, two empty bottles of vodka next to her. Another on the table. “If I’d been home, I could have stopped you, I  _ knew  _ you weren’t okay, I-”

    “Octavia,” Clarke almost snapped, hating herself for the guilt her friend was feeling. “It’s not your job to take care of me. It’s mine, and it’s my fault, I could have just, not drank.” 

    Before either of them could say anything more, Abby walked in with a sheet of paper and a worried wrinkle between her brows. “There’s a few more cracks on your radius, and your scaphoid is almost completely shattered.” She let that sink in, handing Clarke the paper. It was a picture of her x-rayed wrist, showing exactly what her mother had just described. Some of the pieces of the smaller bone, her scaphoid, were not where they were supposed to be, and the artist cringed. “Clarke, you’re going to have to have surgery so that it heals properly.”

    It was Octavia that reacted first, taking the paper from Clarke to look at the breaks herself. “Shit.” She glanced at the doctor, who seemed distracted and worried, but she still apologized for the swear. “Sorry, Mama G.”

    “Clarke, what happened?” Abby frowned, waving Octavia’s apology away. 

    Clarke had the decency to look sheepish as she shrugged, looking anywhere but at her mother. “I just fell.” It wasn’t a complete lie, anyway.

    Octavia rolled her eyes and scowled again, and Clarke knew she was about to be in deep shit, because O cared too much to keep quiet, because O isn’t a quiet person, because O was as pissed off as she was worried. “She was drunk off her ass and literally tripped over nothing.” 

    Clarke found the floor very interesting, as the little bit of alcohol still in her system bubbled in the pit of her stomach, threatening to spill out over her lap. She didn’t want to look up at either of the women in the room, afraid of the disappointment she’d see, afraid of the pity she might see. She begged Octavia silently to please please shut up, Abby didn’t need to know-

    “She’s been shit-faced drunk since Friday night.” Octavia was blunt as always, and irritation dripped from her voice, mixed with the ever-present concern. “The only times she’s not shit-faced drunk is on Fridays when she goes to the middle school and any days she has to come here, or our friends are meeting.”

    Clarke stayed quiet, seething internally, because now she was probably gonna get a lecture, and her mother was probably disappointed, and-

    “Oh sweetie, why didn’t you tell me?” Abby’s voice wasn’t full of disappointment, it wasn’t pitying, she just sounded concerned and hurt. 

    Clarke looked up and met her gaze, and she hated the tears that gathered in her own eyes. She tried to stay silent, she tried so hard to not say anything, but her mouth had other plans. “I can still see them, hear the explosion, hear the gunfire. I can feel the blood on my hands still, I can- I need to save them, I can help them- I-”

_ And she’s back there again, her hands pressed to a gaping hole in the side of a young woman with wet brown eyes and burned blonde hair, blood pouring out of the wound, pooling on the floor beneath her. Clarke is gritting her teeth, pressing harder on the wound, yelling for a shirt or a jacket or a sweater or anything, anything, to help staunch the red sticky flow that was making her hands slick. She breathes the stench of copper, burnt hair, burnt skin, gunpowder, sweat, fear, the terrorist’s cologne that makes her want to throw up. Gina’s students are crying, huddling around their teacher, and there’s moans of pain filling the air, the three terrorists’ chatter, the urgent sound of the woman with the gun arguing with the dark-skinned man about something or another. The woman under her hands is fading, fast, with tears mixing with blood on her cheeks, and Clarke presses even harder, but she’s gone, she’s gone, she lost her.  _

_     Clarke chokes back a sob and turns to the man nearby with half his head crushed under a pillar, his eyes empty and protruding from his face, and she swallows the bile that threatens to spill out. She turns away, going to a couple who are holding each other together, the man’s arm sitting in an unnatural angle and the woman’s shirt soaked red. She finds the wound, finds it and wraps the man’s jacket tightly so the hole stops bleeding mostly. She turns and goes back to Gina, back to the kids, and the whole building quakes and the floor collapses and her vision goes out. _

__

**Lexa; Sunday, 2:26pm**

 

    She had music playing on her phone, some nice Indie pop, and she had brownies in the oven. A notebook sat open on the table behind her, filled with all the information she had on Nia Winters, Dante and Cage Wallace, and the attack on the museum. She stirred a bowl of chocolate frosting, homemade of course, and contemplated adding in just enough peanut butter to taste. She already had two dozen brownies in a container, ready to be transferred to Lincoln’s place later for the meeting that had been called. Clarke’s friend Monty had found something in his searches, and the group had decided to have dinner again. 

    Lexa sang along to the songs she knew and hummed along to the others, and she decided to add the peanut butter to half the frosting. A notification on her phone went off (repeatedly), and she set the bowl down and wiped her hands on a towel. Some frosting was on her finger, so she licked it off while she unlocked her phone with her other hand. It was a group chat, and she took a minute to scroll through the info to see who all was included. It turned out to be everyone that had been at Clarke and Octavia’s the week before, minus Clarke. 

 

**< O - 2:29pm> ** guys, can we move the dinner to our place? Clarke isn’t up to socialization but I can’t leave her alone

**< Lincoln - 2:31pm> ** ofc, is she ok?

**< Bell - 2:31pm> ** what happened?

**< Rae - 2:31pm> ** urs is fine

**< Monty - 2:32pm> ** that’s fine, is Clarke ok?

**< O - 2:32pm> ** she’s fine, but maybe don’t bring alcohol

**< O - 2:33pm> ** it’s not my place to explain, unless she says I can

**< Lincoln - 2:33pm> ** I’m making lasagna, Bell should get Gina to make her garlic bread

**< Lexa - 2:34pm> ** I’m making brownies

 

    She set her phone down for a minute to take said brownies out of the oven, breathing in the chocolatey wave of goodness that billowed out with the heat. She set the pan on the stove and turned back to her phone. 

 

**< Jasper - 2:34pm> ** “brownies” ;) or brownies?

**< Lexa - 2:36pm> ** just normal brownies

**< Jasper - 2:36pm> ** buzzkill

**< Lexa - 2:37pm> ** my sister’s a cop.

**< O - 2:37pm> ** Jas, be nice. 

**< Gina - 2:37pm> ** I’ll make garlic bread and salad, need anything else?

**< Anya has left the chat at 2:37pm>**

**< Monty - 2:38pm> ** I’ll bring pop

**< Rae - 2:38pm> ** is this a thing, do I have to bring like ice or something?

**< Rae - 2:38pm> ** or cups or napkins? 

**< Rae - 2:39pm> ** because I have none of that

**< O - 2:39pm> ** just bring your bubbly self, Rae, and that genius brain of yours

**< Bell - 2:40pm> ** I’m bringing ice cream to go w/ the brownies, that ok?

**< Lexa - 2:41pm> ** that is genius, yes bring ice cream

 

The chat quieted down, and Lexa set her phone down to finish the brownies, spreading the frosting on the cooled off treats and setting them in the container she had waiting. Then she grabbed a plate she’d set aside with enough brownies for her niece, her sister, her brother, and herself. She carried them into the living room where they were playing another video game and wedged herself between the seventh graders. She held up the plate when they started complaining. 

    “Brownies? I think you’re starting to take this baking thing too far, Lex.” Anya raised a brow, but took one of the offered treats anyway. She bit into it and slumped back into the cushions, moaning out her approval. “Or not, oh my god, this is the food of the gods.”

    Tris and Aden laughed at the detective’s antics, each taking their own square of chocolatey goodness. Lexa just grinned and took one for herself before setting the plate down. “I figured I’d try something other than cookies. You going to Lincoln’s for dinner tonight?” 

    “Someone has to stay here with the kids, Lex. Just fill me in when you get back.” 

    “We’re not little kids, you guys can go out for a few hours. Plus, we both have Uncle Linc’s number memorized just in case,” Aden pointed out around a mouthful of brownie, and Lexa swatted his arm and mumbled not to talk with his mouth full. 

    “And I don’t feel like going out tonight, even just to Linc’s, so you guys have supervision,” Anya laughed, swinging her arm over Tris’ shoulders. “I’ve worked so often this week, I’m not sure I remember what a night off feels like, so I’m staying home.”

    “Nice try though,” Lexa chuckled when both kids deflated at the revelations. “I’ll try to save you guys some lasagna and garlic bread. No promises, though.”

 

**Clarke; Sunday, 5:03pm**

 

    The apartment was full of people again, her friends, but she didn’t feel like she could face them. Octavia had said she wouldn’t tell anyone else about- about her problem, but she felt like they’d just  _ know  _ if they looked at her. So she stayed in her room, curled under her comforter, staring at the wall while the scents of dinner drifted under the door. Her stomach rumbled, but she ignored it in favour of staying in her self-created safe haven. 

    She fought to keep her eyes open, because if she closed her eyes, she’d sleep. And if she slept, she’d dream. And if she dreamt, it would turn into a nightmare, and she’d wake up screaming, and she’d wake up panicking, and everyone would  _ know.  _ So after two minutes of fighting it, she sat up and threw her blankets to the side. She scrubbed at her face and sighed, reaching for her phone to scroll through social media. Then she tossed it to the bed beside her and sighed again, tired of seeing posts about the attack. She flopped back onto the bed, her arms splaying out on either side, and huffed at the ceiling as if it was its fault. 

    There was a knock on the door, and a soft voice called past the door. “Clarke? I’m sorry to bother you, but I figured you might be hungry.” It was Lexa, and she wanted to ignore her and pretend to sleep, but her stomach chose that moment to rumble loudly. 

    She sighed, staring at the offender and mumbling. “Traitor.” She sat up and faced the door, smoothing her hair down a bit. “Come on in, Lexa.”

    “Hey. How are you feeling?” Lexa let herself in, holding a plate of steaming food in one hand and a bottle of Coke under her arm. 

    “Hungry.” Clarke smirked, and her stomach grumbled again as if to make her point. “What’s on the menu?” It smelled delicious, and she was pretty sure that was Gina’s famed garlic bread.

    “Linc’s lasagna, Gina’s garlic bread, salad. I brought brownies for dessert and Bell brought ice cream.” The firefighter set the plate down on the side table by the bed while the artist crawled to sit on the edge of the mattress. Lexa handed the blonde the Coke and then hovered for a minute. “Um, I’ll bring you some dessert if you want, in a bit.”

    Clarke took the proffered bottle and smiled. “Thanks. You didn’t have to bring me dinner, you know.”

    “I know. I wanted to make sure you were okay.” Lexa rubbed the back of her neck and ran her tongue over her lips. Not that Clarke was watching.

    “I’ll be okay. I just-” Clarke took a breath and nodded once. “I haven’t been handling things well. The attack messed me up, messed up my head.” She avoided looking up, pretty sure Lexa would politely excuse herself and leave. She didn’t even know why she was saying anything, this was not stuff you told girls you li- you didn’t know. She chanced a glance up and was slightly shocked to see Lexa still standing there quietly, no judgement in her green gaze, just concern and curiosity. The blonde licked her lips and then words were pouring out before she could think first. “I keep- I keep seeing them. All the time, if I think about it too much, or hear a loud noise. At, at The French Door, I had a flashback, that’s why I was panicking. The only thing I could do to avoid it all was to- to drink. Drinking is the only thing that keeps the nightmares away, and most of the time it’s the only thing that lets me fall asleep in the first place unless I’m completely exhausted. Except- except it only works if I’m wasted.” She wanted to shut up, to stop talking, to clamp her mouth shut and sink into the ground, but she couldn’t stop. 

    “I- I feel off. My mom says it might be-” Clarke shook her head, not ready to admit out loud that she might have… She couldn’t even form the thought. “I’m sorry, I don’t know why I’m saying- I didn’t mean to just spout off- I-”

    “No, it’s okay. I’m sorry you’re struggling.” Lexa took a half a step forward, like she wanted to come closer, but stayed where she was. “If there’s anything I can do, anything at all, you have my number.”

    Clarke had no idea how to answer, so she just nodded and opened the Coke, taking a sip. She stared at the wall as Lexa left, kicking herself for scaring the woman away. She munched on the food, eating a good bit of it to her own surprise, then she stared at her phone that sat on the table next to the plate Lexa had brought her. She picked it up and unlocked it, staring at the screen. 

    The wallpaper was a sunset she had witnessed a few months ago, before the attack. The sky was painted with reds, pinks, oranges, even purples and a dash of indigo to the side. A scattering of clouds blanketed the horizon, leaving the rest of the sky clear, and the sun’s rays hinted just barely, just right, over the clouds. It was a pretty scene, one Clarke had wanted to paint, before. 

    She sighed and brought up her apps, clicking on the contacts and scrolling through. She found the one she’d entered the night Lexa had treated her to dinner, the one she’d labeled “Hot French Speaking Firefighter” as a sort of way to find a way to laugh about the evening. She selected the contact with her thumb and stared at the little animated fire hydrant she’d used as a profile picture for a few moments. 

    She wanted to text Lexa, tell her thanks. For the cookies, for the dinner, for defending her honor at the Dropship, for offering her support she didn’t think she needed. She wanted to text her and ask her to come back, but she didn’t want to seem… she didn’t want to seem like she was needy or something. She wanted to call her, to hear her voice, because just those few sentences she had uttered had calmed her swirling mind. 

    She set the phone down, feeling completely drained and numb. She buried her face in her hands and sat still for a little bit, staring at the floor between her bare feet, realizing she couldn’t feel anything, she didn’t…  _ feel.  _ Her head started swimming, and the only thing she could focus on was the uselessness she felt. The worthlessness, the failure she was, the only thing she’d been able to accomplish ever was practically ruining her wrist and becoming borderline alcoholic!

    Her hands moved to the sides of her head, her fingers tangling up in her hair, and she pulled, the pain making her grit her teeth. The thoughts repeated themselves, over and over and over, and they suddenly had voices. 

    “ _ You couldn’t save them, you should have!” _ Her mother. 

    “ _ You should have tried harder, their deaths are on your hands _ !” Raven.

    “ _ You’ve never done anything to be accomplished, you’re a failure _ !” Octavia.

    “ _ You’re a disappointment, just useless _ !” Her father.

    “ _ You’re worthless, why are you even still sitting there _ ?” Bellamy.

    “ _ You don’t deserve to do anything that makes you even a little happy.”  _ That one sounded like her own voice. 

    They were right. Why was she even still there? Still… still alive. She wasn’t doing anything to help, she was making things worse. On her mother, on her best friend. On Lexa, even. 

    She stood abruptly, her jaw clenched and her mind still whirling. She grabbed her sketchbook and a marker, green, and wrote a small note. Then padded to her door and opened it silently, peeking out to see if anyone was in sight. No one was, so she slipped out and went to the bathroom, locking the door behind her. She looked around, weighing her options, before going to the cupboard she and O kept their stuff. She dug through it all, finding what she needed, then sat on the edge of the tub. She chewed on her lip, her heartbeat thumping hard against her ribs.

    She gripped the razor blade she’d found tightly with her right hand, listening to the voices that screamed at her from inside. She listened, she believed, and she pressed the edge to the skin of her forearm.

 

**Lexa; Sunday, 5:23pm**

 

    Lexa piled a couple of scoops of vanilla ice cream into the bowl in front of her, then added a couple of brownies fresh from the microwave. “I’m gonna go see if she wants some dessert, I’ll be right back.”

    “Just turn on some music, first, we don’t want to hear all that!” Raven laughed, grinning widely as Lexa’s cheeks heated up.

    “I didn’t mean- nevermind.” Lexa sighed and shook her head, heading down the hall to Clarke’s room for the second time that night. She kind of felt like she was intruding, but she was really worried. The look in the blonde’s eyes when she’d seen her earlier, as she had spilled her heart out, was one she recognized. It was the same look she’d had herself, after Costia had died. The same broken look, and Lexa knew the thoughts and emotions that accompanied it. So she carried the bowl of dessert down the hall, to Clarke’s… open door. She frowned, knocking on the frame. She was sure she had closed it firmly earlier. “Clarke?” There was no answer, so she went in and found the room empty. Maybe she was in the bathroom, then…. The plate was mostly cleaned off, the Coke half gone. And her sketchbook lay open on the end of her bed, a green marker next to it. Lexa set the bowl down on the table and picked the sketchbook up, reading the note on the page. She went pale at the words written there. “ _ I’m sorry. I can’t do anything right, I couldn’t save those people and I can’t even function normally. Maybe I’m not meant to be here anymore. Please understand.”  _ That was it. 

    Lexa looked around, panicking. This note, this wasn’t just a normal self-pitying note. The window was closed, she would have seen her if she’d went to the door. The bathroom light had been on, she’d noticed the yellowish light spilling from under the door. She tore out of the bedroom and went back towards the rest of the apartment, skidding to a stop at the bathroom door, banging on it with an open palm, the sketchbook in her other hand. “Clarke? Clarke, let me in!”

    “Whoa, where’s the fire, Woods?” Octavia was at her side, and she shoved the sketchbook at her in lieu of and answer. “Oh shit. Clarke! Open the door, Clarke!”

    Lexa jiggled the handle, gritting her teeth. “I’m sorry O, I’ll pay for damages. Get back.” She backed up herself, pushing Octavia back towards the others, who hovered at the mouth of the hall. She raised her foot and threw her body weight behind it, aiming a kick at the space next to the door handle. The wood cracked, and she did it again, and stumbled forward when the wood splintered finally. She rushed in and swatted the blade in Clarke’s hand to the side, pressing her fingers against the bleeding line on the blonde’s wrist. “Shit, Clarke. You’re gonna be okay.”

    Clarke stayed quiet, tears streaming down her face. A towel was pressed over Lexa’s fingers, so she took it and pressed it to the woman’s cut, looking her over for any other signs of… of anything. She wiped the area up, studying the cut. She was relieved to find it extremely shallow, and way crooked. “I’m sorry,” Clarke whispered, staring at the floor.

    “What? No no no, you have nothing to apologize for. You’re okay, you’re gonna be fine. No damage done, except the door.” Lexa knelt down in front of the blonde and looked up at her, then glanced at O behind her. “It’s not deep, but do you have a first aid kit?”

    “Yeah, here.” Octavia knelt and reached under the sink, pulling out a white plastic box with the usual red cross painted on it. She rummaged through it and handed Lexa cleaning wipes, then gauze and tape. Then she maneuvered around until she was sitting next to Clarke. She put her arm around her back, leaning close to her ear. “Clarke, I’m sorry. I- You’re my best friend, and I’m sorry if you felt you couldn’t come and talk to me. You know I love you, right?”

    The blonde stayed quiet while Lexa worked, but nodded her head at Octavia’s question. She sniffed and leaned against the younger woman. When she did talk, she was quiet, and only Octavia and Lexa hear. “I think I need- I need help.” 

    Octavia seemed to sag with relief, and Lexa looked up, catching her gaze before turning to Clarke. She reached up and cupped one of Clarke’s cheeks, wiping at her tear with her thumb. “You’ll get help. It’ll be okay, Clarke.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you or someone you know is suffering from depression, I urge you to please talk to someone, even just me. If you are having suicidal thoughts or urges, please tell someone you trust or call the Suicide Hotline at 1-800-273-8255.
> 
> If you need someone to talk to, you can find me on tumblr with the username @potatoquinn93. Please don't keep your feelings bottled up, and please stay safe.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A bit of sister time for Lexa and Anya, Clarke starts therapy, and the investigation continues. Clarke gets the flu. Lexa stops by to check on her, and Bellamy goes AWOL.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, this is really really late, but I've been in a bit of a slump lately and then even though I have this planned mostly out, I couldn't get the words right. Hopefully this chapter is okay.
> 
> For those of you who had to skip chapter 6, Clarke had a breakdown and finally admitted she needs help after Lexa had to break down the bathroom door at one of the group's dinner parties. She's okay, I promise!
> 
> Hopefully the next chapter comes quicker, I do apologize for making you all wait so long (over a month! is it two now?), and thank you for being patient with me!

**Lexa; Tuesday, 9:13am**

 

    Lexa loved when she had a day off. The chance to sleep in past noon, to take naps whenever she wanted, to go out and take walks, jog, do things she didn’t have time to on work days. So why then, had she been up since five that morning, sitting at the kitchen table, staring into space? The notebook she was using to keep all the information the group had learned lay open in front of her, with a few new additions. Monty had found some iffy finance records and dodgy emails, encrypted. The emails spoke of meeting points and dropoffs, of appointments and so many other things. She’d filled Anya in Sunday night, like her sister had asked. 

    But it wasn’t this slightly illegal investigation that she had on her mind. 

    It was Clarke. She’d stayed as long as she could, and had been the last one to leave. She’d left her number with Octavia, just in case. And she hadn’t heard from either woman since.

    She was tempted to call and check on the blonde, but she didn’t want to seem nosy. It wasn’t her place, she was just an acquaintance…

    She sighed and reached for her phone, pulling up Clarke’s contact. She hit the message button and stared at the empty box for a moment, her thumbs hovering over the virtual keyboard. 

 

**< Lexa - 9:17am> ** hey, how are you doing?

 

    She set the device down and leaned back in the kitchen chair, tapping her fingers on the table on either side of it. She didn’t expect a response, really, except maybe to tell her to stop bothering her or something-

    Her phone lit up, and the message notification sound played. She sat forward and grabbed it, almost dropping it in her haste to open the message.

 

**< Clarke - 9:20am> ** Doing better, thanks. 

**< Clarke - 9:20am> ** Sorry about ruining dinner Sunday

 

    Lexa frowned, her brow wrinkling. 

 

**< Lexa - 9:21am> ** You didn’t. 

**< Lexa - 9:21am> ** ruin dinner, I mean. You didn’t ruin it.

**< Lexa - 9:22am> ** You’re allowed to feel whatever you feel, no matter how that is.

 

    She chewed on her lip and stared at the screen of her phone, leaning forward so that her forehead rested on the edge of the table. She held her phone in her hands below the table and stared at it, hoping she hadn’t overstepped or something.

 

**< Clarke - 9:24am> ** I know. Thank you

**< Clarke - 9:24am> ** I have to go, I’ll text you later

 

    Lexa sent an ‘okay’ and continued to stare at her phone. She needed to find something to do, or she was going to spend all day obsessing over the other woman.

    “Lex, you okay?” Anya’s voice cut through her thoughts, and she turned her head enough to see her sister’s feet standing next to her. 

    “Yeah, I think I am anyway.” She moved her head back to stare at her phone again, and she watched a hand reach over and take it away. “Hey, you can’t just-”

    “You need to do something other than wallow in the kitchen,” Anya interrupted, locking the phone and laying her hand on Lexa’s thigh. “Come on, let’s go for a walk.”

    Once outside, Lexa breathed the cool air in, enjoying the freshness of it. She stuck her hands in the pockets of her jacket and stared into the space in front of them as they walked east, towards downtown. “Thanks.” Anya was quiet, apparently lost in her own thoughts. “I’m just really worried. And also irritated with myself, because it’s none of my business what she does, but I can’t, I can’t just stop caring, you know?”

    “I know, Lexa, it’s okay.” Anya smiled, leading the way down the street that would take them towards the park. 

    Lexa nodded, remembering that she had told Clarke basically the same thing. It was okay to feel stuff, even if it was negative. She was allowed to worry, she just couldn’t let it consume her. She took a deep breath and looked up at the sky, the colour closely resembling Clarke’s eyes. She hoped she was okay, and she really wished she could do something to help. 

 

**Clarke; Tuesday, 9:27am**

 

    She sighed and stuffed her phone into her pocket after turning it on silent, then looked at the building she stood in front of. It was a nice looking building, with red bricks and grey concrete and she was stalling. It was Polis Mental Health, the one place she’d been secretly trying to avoid but also secretly wanting to go to. Her mom, as her doctor, had set her up with a psychologist. 

    “Come on, Clarke, let’s get this over with, okay?” Octavia touched her elbow, and Clarke nodded. She was so so thankful that O had came with her. She wasn’t sure she could face this alone. But at the same time, she felt bad. She didn’t need supervision, she was a big girl, she should be able to do this by herself. “Hey,” Octavia interrupted her thoughts, pulling her to a stop. “I’m not leaving, even if you tell me to, so let’s go in.”

    Clarke almost smiled at her, then went inside. In the first set of doors was a tiny room. There was a window in front of the two friends, with a clipboard under it on the small counter. Another door stood to the side, with no handle and a camera at the top. She took a breath and went to the clipboard. 

    “Hey hon, you have an appointment?” The lady behind the counter was a bit overweight with a sunny smile and red-rimmed glasses on her nose. Clarke nodded, grabbing Octavia’s hand. “Just sign here and I’ll let you in.”

    She signed her name, feeling a bit like she signed her soul away, and jumped when the door-with-no-handle hissed open. She couldn’t move for a minute, but managed a few steps when Octavia prodded her in the side with her finger. They sat down in a couple of uncomfortable cushy chairs in front of a flat screen television that was playing some kind of slideshow about hygiene and mental health. There was a wall of plastic pockets filled with pamphlets and packets, and Octavia got up to look through them, grabbing a few. 

    Clarke managed to sit mostly still, with just her fingers fidgeting with the hem of her shirt as she stared at the pattern on the carpet. Dark green with dark blue swirls in it, with dark red specks scattered throughout in a pattern that took her like three seconds to find. Finding the beginning of each repeat calmed her mind, and following the swirls to the next repeat kept her occupied until Octavia elbowed her in the side. She looked up at her friend, then over to the woman standing at a doorway with a clipboard in her hands. “Clarke Griffin?”

    “Uh, yeah, that’s me.” She stood up and looked at Octavia. “Um, can you wait here?”

    “Of course. I have some stuff to read, I’ll be fine. Go on.” Octavia smiled and held up the pamphlets, which Clarke noticed were all on several different mental illnesses. 

    “Thanks.” Clarke nodded and followed after the woman, passing by an older man who was snoring and another woman who was mumbling to herself as she scribbled in a notebook. 

    “Right this way, Miss Griffin.” The woman smiled and turned, leading her down a brightly lit hallway. She turned a corner and directed her into a room on the left with a desk and several comfy looking chairs in it. “The doctor will be right with you.”

    “Thanks,” Clarke mumbled, hugging her arms around her torso as she stared at the framed papers on the wall. Diplomas and rewards, it looked like, for a Doctor Luna Waters. In between the documents was a picture of a sunset, this one over a beach. The sun was reflected in the water with splashes of deep red, sunburst orange, bright yellow. A few wisps of clouds dotted the sky, and a the only thing on the sand was a pair of footstep leading into the water. She thought if she squinted a little, she could see a figure in the water, just there, in the middle.

    She heard the door click open, but stayed as she was, facing away from the door with her arms around herself. There were the sharp footsteps of a pair of heels, the unmistakable sound of a rolling chair being pulled out, the squeak of someone sitting down. A ruffle of papers being shuffled together, a few clicks of the keyboard, the click of a pen, twice. Whoever it was (the doctor, obviously, but Clarke was still in a bit of denial) didn’t say a word. 

    Finally, Clarke got tired of staring at the sunset and turned around, still hugging her torso. The woman behind the desk was leaning back in her chair, her bare feet propped up on her desk and crossed at the ankles. She had a copy of the Polis News newspaper clutched in her hand, open to some article in the middle. Her hair could have been described as wild, golden brown curls in a halo around her head, but it looked like it had been done that way on purpose. Her expression was one of concentration as she read the paper, her toes wiggling just a little bit. Clarke was struck by how relaxed this woman was, how… normal. Did most therapists walk around barefoot? Was that a thing?

    The woman, Doctor Waters, looked up and Clarke met her dark gaze. “I think I’m the only one crazy enough to take my shoes off here, everyone else is too…” She waved a hand, seeming to search for the correct word as her eyes drifted to the ceiling. Her nose wrinkled, and her eyes met Clarke’s again. “Professional.” She swung her feet down to the floor, folded the paper, and laid it down. Clarke blinked when she realized she had spoken her last thoughts aloud, and she felt her cheeks heat up in embarrassment. 

    “Right.” Clarke shifted on her feet, her fingers worrying on the hem of her shirt.

    “You can sit if you’d like, you know.” The doctor smiled and gestured at the chair in front of the desk, pulling a file over the surface of her desk to rest in front of her. She didn’t open it, however, and she didn’t comment when Clarke stayed standing. “My name is Luna Waters, you can call me Luna, if you’d like. As uncomfortable as it may be, I need to verify a few things with you. Is that alright?” She looked up and caught the blonde’s nod, then opened the file. She went through and asked some basic questions, like her birthday, her full name, more questions the artist didn’t see the point in. Then the doctor shifted a bit and even though her posture didn’t change, her expression stayed the same, Clarke somehow felt like she was suddenly getting serious, as if she had been merely asking those pointless questions for her amusement. 

    When Luna didn’t say anything else, Clarke shifted on her feet and tightened her arms around herself. “What?”

    “I have to address the really serious stuff now,” was her answer, and she glanced at the file again with pursed lips. “I have to phrase them all as questions, and I need you to answer them as truthfully as you feel comfortable.” Clarke nodded again. “Okay. First, why are you here?”

    Clarke resisted squirming, pressing her lips together as she stared at the floor beneath her. This carpet was a flat dark red, no designs. She liked it better than the one in the waiting room. “I- um.” She glanced up and went with the simple answer. “My mom recommended you?”

    Luna raised a brow and leaned back in her chair. “Why?”

    Such a simple question. Clarke found the answer was complicated in her mind, though, and was having trouble finding the words to explain. “I um,” she mumbled, then looked down at her bandaged wrist, partially hidden by her casted one, both pressed to her stomach. She chewed on the inside of her cheek, then slowly brought out the wrist she had cut, holding it out so Luna could see. She looked up and watched for a reaction. 

    Luna blinked and took a breath, then looked to the file in front of her again. “It says here you tried to commit suicide?”

    Clarke’s breath hitched in her throat and her eyes teared up, feeling ashamed about the whole situation. She wanted to leave, to go home and break into her stash and drink away the bad feeling that settled in her gut. Her fingers twitched and she brought her arm back to rest on her chest, nodding hesitantly. She couldn’t say the words out loud, but she could at least admit it silently. 

    When Luna didn’t look at her with judgement or pity, Clarke felt her muscles start to relax a little. She moved and sat in the chair, on the edge, and licked her lips. “I got tired of drinking the memories away. I wanted to stop. I wanted to stop everything.”

 

**Lexa; Sunday, 5:27pm**

 

    Dinner this Sunday was held at Lexa and Anya’s place, with all the usual attendees, and including Aden and Tris this time. Anya made her famous ranch chicken and cheesy scalloped potatoes, making buttery broccoli to go with it, and Lexa made a sponge cake topped with strawberries, and had fresh cream in the fridge to add to it later. Lexa had emptied the fridge and cabinets of any and all alcohol, hiding what they had in Anya’s mini fridge she kept in her bedroom and the top shelf of the junk closet in the back of the house. In place, she had stocked up on several different juices and pops. 

    Conversation was light as everyone ate, and it was decided that everyone who had the day off that coming Friday would go to the middle school and volunteer their time to help with the mural. Clarke, Aden and Tris all three stayed a bit vague while talking about it, explaining the theme more instead of the actual image. 

    Once the kids were occupied with video games and dessert, the adults gathered around the dinner table, cake in front of each. Bellamy had went down to his car and brought up a few manilla envelopes, spreading them open on the table. “I may have done something very illegal, but I saw an opportunity and took it.”

    Anya picked up a sheaf of paper and read through it, a wrinkle between her eyes. “Blake, what did you do…”

    “Nia left the office unlocked the other day, so I did some snooping. Found these taped to the bottom of her junk drawer in her desk. Made copies.” He rifled through the papers and pulled one out, laying it on top of all the others. 

    “What’s this?” Lexa leaned over to read the typed words, her brow furrowed. Clarke, Octavia, Anya, and Monty all did the same, Clarke trailing her finger over a paragraph. Lexa read some of it out loud. “ _ ‘New location, 2134 Main, F. H, C, P, and G on Fri morn.’  _ What’s with all the letters?”

    “Maybe it’s stuff they’re dealing,” Jasper put in, tapping his fingers on one of the papers in front of him. He pushed a few of them towards the middle, tapping them again. “See, H, C, P, and G are mentioned here too, next to some pretty big numbers.”

    “Why do you think they’re dealing?” Bellamy frowned, crossing his arms over his chest. 

    “I dunno. It just seems like the plausible answer.” Jasper shrugged. “Plus, I know a guy who knows a guy, and this looks like dealing records.”

    “Right.” 

    Lexa leaned closer and squinted at the documents, then leaned back and shrugged, picking up her fork. “Looks like some sort of records, anyway.”

    Anya frowned, reading over the papers as well. She didn’t touch any of them, keeping her hands at the edge of the table. Lexa figured she wanted to keep her prints off the papers, which, she supposed, was probably smart. 

    The group talked a bit more about the records before putting them away and changing the subject, no one really wanting to stay focused on the investigation. Bellamy told them of his plan to leave the papers at the police station anonymously, in hopes that the detective in charge of the investigation would take initiative and look into them. 

    When the serious discussion ended, the adults split off into a few different conversations. Lincoln and Octavia got pulled into the living room for video games, Monty and Gina started helping Anya with the clean up, Raven and Jasper fell into a hushed chat about different chemicals and explosives (although Lexa only knew that because Jasper kept saying “boom!” with different stresses every few words), and Bellamy excused himself to put the files back in his car. Lexa and Clarke were left alone at the table, and the brunette decided suddenly that the wood finish on the surface of the table was quite interesting indeed. 

    “The cake’s really good,” Clarke said suddenly, and when Lexa looked up, the blonde was shaking her head a bit with her eyes closed, mumbling to herself.

    “Thanks,” Lexa chuckled, relaxing into her seat and sipping the root beer in her glass. 

 

**Clarke; Friday, 9:34am**

 

    “Clarke, you can’t just go to a school filled with kids while you’re puking out your guts,” Octavia chuckled, rubbing said blonde’s back while said blonde emptied her stomach in the toilet.

    “O, I don’t have- I have to-” She groaned, gripping the porcelain tightly. “I’m in the middle of a project, O.”

    “I know. Don’t worry, you planned everything out. I saw your notes. The kids are painting by the squares anyway, and the adults too, and there’s those diagrams you drew up.” Octavia sighed and handed Clarke a damp towel. “If you want, I’ll even make an appearance- hold that thought.” She pulled out her singing phone and swiped to answer. “Hey Doc.”

    Clarke groaned again, resting her forehead on the cool surface of the toilet, then thought better of it and slumped sideways to lean against the wall. She was just fine when she went to bed the night before, minus a bit of a headache, but she got headaches all the time. After Octavia hung up her phone and slipped it back into her pocket, she pulled Clarke up and pushed her towards the shower. She went without argument, feeling like she’d been sitting in her own sweat for days, even though she’d totally showered just the night before. 

    The blast of hot water ached, but at the same time felt so good. She stood in the cascading water for a few minutes, leaning her forehead against the tiled wall and letting her mind drift. If she were completely honest, she really didn’t mind taking the time to stay at home and rest. She knew the benefits of taking care of herself when she was ill, but she also knew that Lexa and the other volunteers from the fire station were supposed to be at the school today. She’d been eager to show them the progress the kids had made, and the plans they had all made for the mural. 

    Okay, so she was mainly lamenting the fact that she wouldn’t get to see Lexa.

    She finished her shower and dried off, slipping into a light pair of shorts and a tank before padding out of the bathroom and into her room. She eyed the glass of water sitting on her side table, then shrugged and took a sip, making a mental note to thank O later. Or now, seeing as the girl was now walking into her room with a furrowed brow. “Thanks for the water, O. Hey, are you okay?” she asked when the brunette just kind of stood there for a minute.

    “Hmm? I’m fine. Just, I texted Bell to ask him to come by and make his awesome chicken noodle soup and he hasn’t texted back yet, which is weird, ‘cause he always texts me back as soon as he can, which means either his phone is off or he’s too busy to text back, but Gina hasn’t seen him since yesterday either-”

    “Whoa, Octavia, breathe!” Clarke almost smiled, seeing the bond her best friend had with her brother was always kind of endearing, but the girl was so worried, her cheeks flush with the effort her breathless ramble had taken. The blonde reached out to squeeze her shoulders but was overtaken by a wave of nausea, so she sat down on the edge of her bed and sipped at the water again. “I’m sure he’s fine, Nia Winters might have him doing something for her, you never know.” It seemed becoming head of security also made him ideal to carry out other tasks as well, even if that meant driving Ontari around or making sure Roan didn’t gamble away the family fortune. At least he was getting paid well for it.

    “Yeah, maybe.” Octavia was still troubled, but she made a visible effort to calm down. “He’ll text me back when he can, right?”

    “You know he will, O. You’re the most important person in his life, he won’t stay silent for long.” Clarke smiled, then groaned when her head started pounding. “On that note, I’m gonna lay down and try to take a nap. Wake me up if something interesting happens.”

    “Sure thing, Clarke,” Octavia chuckled, leaving the room and shutting the light off.

    Clarke sighed and reached for her phone, staring at the screen for a moment before opening her contacts and bringing up “Hot French Speaking Firefighter” with the animated fire hydrant as a profile picture. She clicked open the messaging app and typed out a message. 

 

**< Clarke - 10:12am> ** You’re gonna have to navigate the middle school by yourself.

 

    She hit send, then stared at the screen while she waited for an answer, then typed out another one real quick.

 

**< Clarke - 10:13am> ** I woke up with the flu

**< Hot French Speaking Firefighter - 10:13am> ** oh no! do you need anything?

**< Clarke - 10:14am> ** I’m okay, O’s still here. 

**< Clarke - 10:14am> ** although, a batch of your cookies from heaven might be nice when I can hold them down 

**< Clarke - 10:14am> ** I’m kidding, but now I’m determined to get better faster so I can have some lol

**< Hot French Speaking Firefighter - 10:15am> ** ofc, I can bake you some.

**< Hot French Speaking Firefighter - 10:15am> ** do you need anything else?

**< Hot French Speaking Firefighter - 10:15am> ** I mean like medicine or something or whatever

**< Hot French Speaking Firefighter - 10:15am> ** Anya makes really good broth

 

    Clarke chuckled at the rambling, biting her lip. 

 

**< Clarke - 10:16am> ** you’re rambling again

**< Hot French Speaking Firefighter - 10:16am> ** Oh god, I’m sorry

**< Hot French Speaking Firefighter - 10:16am> ** I just know it sucks being sick

 

    There was a minute of nothing for a minute, and Clarke laughed again, guessing the other woman was trying to not ramble.

**< Clarke - 10:17am> ** don’t be, I told you.

**< Clarke - 10:17am>** you’re cute when you ramble 

**< Clarke - 10:17am> ** the broth sounds good, tho, if you’re able to bring it over

**< Clarke - 10:18am> ** if not, that’s okay

**< Hot French Speaking Firefighter - 10:18am> ** no, it’s okay, I have time. I can’t be there til this afternoon after school, but no later than 3:30 if that’s okay

 

    Clarke grinned at her phone.

 

**< Clarke - 10:18am> ** that’s fine, that just gives me a chance to nap

**< Clarke - 10:19am> ** I’ll see you later then

 

    The blonde did a little wiggle as she held her phone to her chest, because she might be sick, but she was still going to get to see Lexa later! Then she frowned and looked at the messages, starting to type out a ‘nevermind, don’t come over, you don’t need to get sick too’ but another message popped up.

 

**< Hot French Speaking Firefighter - 10:20am> ** before you change your mind, I had my flu shot already. I’ll be over around 3.

 

    Clarke grinned again and set her phone down, burying her head into her pillow and dozing off. 

 

**Lexa; Friday, 3:22pm**

 

    Lexa adjusted the thermos and container of cookies she held so she could call the elevator in Clarke’s apartment building. After hearing that Clarke was sick that morning, the day had seemed to slow down instead of speed up like she’d expected. Now she was finally free to check on the blonde, the thermos filled with Anya’s famous chicken broth still steaming. She jabbed at the button a few times, tapping her fingers on the surface of the thermos as she waited, so focused on the elevators she almost didn’t notice someone skid to a stop beside her. 

    “So sorry,” an apology rolled from gasping lips when Lexa jumped. “Running late, is the elevator here yet?”

    Before Lexa could answer, there was a ding, and the doors slid open. They both boarded the thing, and reached for the button at the same time. Lexa stopped and glanced at the person next to her. “Sorry, which floor?”

    “Um, third, thanks.” They smiled and stuffed their hand in their jeans pocket, the other one pushing black hair out of green eyes. 

    Lexa blinked and pressed the third floor before pressing for the sixth, nodding a little before readjusting the container and thermos. The ride was quiet, and Lexa felt some tension leave with the other person when they came to their floor. She waved a bit as the doors closed, and she slumped against the wall. Those green eyes were a certain shade she’d only ever seen in two places ever: in the mirror and in her father’s gaze. 

    She blinked and shook of the weird feeling she had, then strode out of the doors when they dinged open on the fifth floor. She tucked the thermos under her arm so she could knock without worrying about dropping the things she brought and rapped her knuckles on Clarke and Octavia’s door. The brunette was the one to answer, eyeing the container Lexa held. “Do I get any of those?” She grins, letting the firefighter in.

    Lexa chuckled and carried the container to the kitchen. “Sure, just leave some for Clarke. They’re her motivation to get better.”

    “Ha. Sure,” Octavia agreed through a laugh, slumping onto the couch to flip through the channels on tv. “We’ll see.”

    Lexa shook her head and stalled a bit longer, staring at the cupboards. “Um, where do you keep your bowls?”

    “Third cabinet from the left end, bottom shelf.”

    Lexa found a bowl, a spoon, and poured some broth out to take to Clarke. “Has she tried to eat anything? Has she had enough water?”

    “Yeah, she ate a cracker around noon, and yes, I’ve been keeping her hydrated.” Octavia smirked, clearly amused. “Don’t worry, your girl has been being taken care of.”

    “Sh- she’s not my girl,” Lexa grumbled, her cheeks aflame, while she tucked the thermos under her arm. 

    “You should get on that, Woods,” Octavia snarked, finding some bake-off on the food channel.

    Lexa spluttered as her cheeks turned redder, then decided to ignore the younger woman and just take the broth to Clarke. She went to Clarke’s bedroom door and knocked, pushing it open when she heard the mumbled invitation. “Hey, I brought broth…” Clarke was wrapped up in her blankets, with only a bit of blonde hair poking up through the top. The lights were off, the curtains drawn, and a fan blew gently in the corner. After a second, Clarke peeked her face out of her blanket burito, blinking blearily at Lexa. “How are you feeling?”

    The blonde scrunched her face up and moved, something like a shrug maybe, though it was hard to tell through the thick comforter that was wrapped around her. “I’m not dying, so there’s that.”

    Lexa held back a chuckle, setting instead for a smirk. “You up for some of this?” She held up the bowl, stepping closer to set the thermos down on the table by the bed. She passed the bowl to Clarke when the younger woman reached for it, then lingered close by. Should she sit? Should she leave? She was at a bit of a loss. 

    “Thank you for bringing this over. Wanna sit? I mean, you don’t have to, I don’t want you to get sick,” Clarke rambled a little before focusing on the broth in her hands, spooning some of it up and sipping at it. “This is good.”

    “It’s no problem,” Lexa assured, talking about both bringing the broth and sitting. She sat on the edge of the bed, resisting the urge to push a strand of hair from the blonde’s face. “Anya makes this whenever one of us gets sick, and really it’s just bouillon cubes mixed with a can of broth and something else she won’t tell me, but it always makes me feel better.”

    Clarke smiled as she leaned back against the headboard, holding the bowl close. “I  _ do  _ feel a bit better, but that might mostly be because you came to visit.”

    Lexa felt her cheeks heat up, and she looked down at her hands in her lap, biting her lip. “I’m glad.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please comment if you like it, or don't, or something, comments motivate me to write more stuff, faster! 
> 
> also, find me on Tumblr here: https://alanaldavis.tumblr.com/
> 
> sometimes I post interesting things, but also if you have questions and things, my asks are always open.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke's over the flu, a couple of bodies are found burnt to a crisp, and there's some sabotage in Clarke's apartment building.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for this being so late, I went through a lot over the last few months and I couldn't get back into the groove of this story. This chapter is a little shorter than the others, but I'm hoping it serves as a sort of bridge back into this crazy story I have created. This is far from over, there's still a lot I have planned for this story! Thank you all who have been reading since the beginning, for being patient with me, and I hope you continue to do so as I work it all out! 
> 
> Comments and kudos are my fuel, just so you know, even if the comment is really tiny. I won't write anything if I don't think it's being read, so comments just let me know people are interested!
> 
> Trigger Warning for a bit of a gruesome crime scene in the second part (where Lexa's POV starts), and a mini panic attack near the end.
> 
> Thank you for reading!

**Clarke; Friday, 4:13pm**

After the flu kicked her ass, Clarke decided she needed to make up for lost time. Which meant she was busy all the time, barely stopping to eat and only doing that because Octavia, Raven, her mother, and even Lexa kept bringing her food. She was always either working on the mural, or working on a personal project, or working at the grocery store, or working at the gallery downtown that she had finally gotten a part-time job at, or she was mentoring at Polis University.

This particular Friday, she was multitasking. She was both working on the mural and mentoring a university student.

Hunter Lewis was nineteen, with short, shaggy black hair and bright green eyes. They were studying studio art and early childhood development at the university, and was a resident in Clarke's building. In addition to being mentored by Clarke (which Clarke had volunteered for to keep herself distracted from her own mind, at the suggestion of her therapist), Hunter was also helping Clarke with the mural and future plans for when the project was finished. Which seemed to be soon, only a few details and a varnish seal needed to be added.

Seeing as it had been a snow day that day, both artists were in Clarke's apartment, sipping hot chocolate while they looked over the pictures the blonde had taken of the mural the day before. They were discussing the different kinds of varnish that were available, and whether to use matte or satin sheen.

(More like they were pointing out the differences while both leaning towards matte.)

They had a plate of cookies (sadly store bought) on the coffee table in front of them, half gone already.

"Oh my god, I am so tired! Clarke, remind me why I decided to- ooh, cookies!" Octavia flopped onto the couch, half on Clarke, and grabbed a few cookies and proceeded to munch.

"O, you're getting crumbs all over me, not to mention you almost just got burned. I have a mostly full cup of hot chocolate!" Clarke huffed, holding her mug above her friend as it sloshed dangerously.

"Sorry," the brunette mumbled around a mouthful of cookies, obviously not really sorry. She shifted so she was sitting between Clarke and the arm of the couch with her legs in the blonde's lap and stole the mug of hot chocolate, downing half before she grimaced and set it on the coffee table. "Damn, that's hot."

"I told you," Clarke grumbled, crossing her arms.

Hunter watched the interaction with an amused smirk on their face. "You guys act like you're sisters."

Octavia grinned and poked Clarke with her toes. "We might as well be, we've known each other since elementary school."

Clarke hummed and reached for another cookie. "Yeah, that's what, eighteen years now?" She bit into the treat and chewed contemplatively. "We both went to Polis City Elementary School, with a few others. And I'm pretty sure the only reason she befriended me in the first place was because her brother hated me." The blonde grinned, stealing one of Octavia's cookies.

"At first, I'll admit, that was true." Octavia nodded solemnly, her face thoughtful. "But then she punched this guy for being an asshat, and I started to like her for real."

Hunter snorted, a brow raised. "Seriously?" They shook their head, grinning. "Nah actually, I can see it." They laughed when Clarke reached out and whapped their arm.

"Shut up and eat some cookies," Clarke laughed, stealing another of Octavia's cookies and handing it to Hunter.

 

**Lexa; Friday, 4:36pm**

Lexa jumped out of the truck as soon as it stopped, running to assess the situation while her squad rushed to prepare their equipment to put out the inferno that was currently devouring the warehouse.

The Warehouse District of Polis City was small, but still isolated from the rest of the city, and right by the forest that surrounded the southwestern area of the city. Right that minute, only the most western warehouse was ablaze, but the flames were licking higher and higher, starting to eat at the space between the burning building and the one next to it. Lexa could feel the heat from where she stood, and she grimaced as she jogged to join her teammates.

While they worked at putting the blaze out, they were joined by four police officers in two police cars, who stood back and waited for the flames to die down. Lexa assumed they were also speaking to the group of teens that had discovered the fire.

Sweat trickled down Lexa's face to her neck, soaking the shirt she wore under her uniform and gear as she focused on the task.

When they were finally able to kill the flames, they made sure the structure was still mostly sound. The chief sent Lexa, Megan, and Lincoln in to investigate while he went to the officers and teens to talk. Lexa picked her way over smoking debris, keeping an eye out for any sparks or anything else that looked like it would catch again. Miraculously the interior of the building was still mostly intact, the shell of it seeming to be the only thing that really burned, other than a spot near the back wall. The firefighters approached the scorched wall carefully, looking everything over on their way.

Lexa saw it first, her stomach churning as she realized what she was seeing; a badly burned, obviously dead woman lay crumpled face down on the concrete. She turned away and focused on steeling her nerves to look closer.

After a detached examination of the body (from a bit of a distance) and the nearby area, it became obvious that the pile of charred wood was the source of the fire. Lexa sent Lincoln to get the police and the chief while she and Morse studied the still smoldering wood pile.

It looked like someone had stacked up a bunch of wood pallets, doused them in gas, and tossed-

Lexa leaned closer, her brows furrowed, as her eyes caught something glinting in her flashlight's beam. She pushed aside some of the charred wood and picked up the object, wiping it off on her pants. "It's a lighter," she called over to Morse, who joined her. If the gas and specific placing of the wood pallets wasn't evident enough, finding the lighter set it; this was deliberate.

"I'll take that," a voice said from right behind her, and Lexa stood to face her sister. Anya held out an evidence baggie, and the brunette dropped the lighter in. Behind her, Detective Joss Carter knelt next to the body, looking for any sort of identification. Anya turned and held the bag up. "Lighter."

Carter shook her head and stood. "There's no wallet, no ID, nothing." She crossed her arms and frowned down at the victim.

"Hey, there's another one!" Tristan called out from the other side of the burned wood where he and Lincoln were crouched. "Another body," he clarified as the detectives joined them.

This one was burned even worse than the first, the gender unidentifiable. Larger than the woman, it almost looked like they were tossed to the ground and then buried with some of the wood.

Anya let out a long sigh and pulled out her phone, calling the Medical Examiners to meet them.

 

**Clarke; Sunday, 5:18pm**

The wind howled outside, beating against the building and threatening to blow Clarke and Octavia's windows open. The usual gang was there, besides Jasper who was "Dying, by dose is so stuffed, I cadt bake it, sorry guys." (Clarke wasn't sure whether he was being dramatic about a cold or overselling an excuse to stay home.)

They had a thick beef and vegetable stew for dinner, with sourdough bread. There was berry pie for desert (baked by Monty), and a choice of several pops, juice, or water for drinks. The space was limited, but the group made do, sharing seats and table spaces while they chatted and ate. Which meant that somehow Lexa and Clarke ended up practically in each other's laps, not that either of them really minded.

They refrained from talking about the investigation too much with Aden and Tris there, skirting around the topic with initials and vague mentions. Bellamy shared what he had found in Weatherville (rumors mostly, of some new drug codenamed "Red"), and he was thoroughly scolded by his sister and Anya, who disapproved of a civilian doing any sort of investigating that could put them in danger.

Anya then admitted that the MEs had found some new toxin in one of the victims' systems, or at least, what was left of it. It was just traces, not enough to determine what it was or how it had effected him, but it was there.

They were all working on the pie when the power went out, casting the group in reletive darkness.

"Hold on, hold on..." Clarke got up, fumbling around in the kitchen for a minute before there was a flood of light from a flashlight and several phones, all shining in different directions.

"Ow, Griffin!" Raven blinked and raised a hand to block the light in her face, squinting.

"Oops, sorry, that's me." The light turned and illuminated the sheepish grin of Octavia.

"Bell, I volunteer you to go and find out what happened," Anya called out, makind everyone else snicker at the callout.

"Why me?" Bellamy groaned, and three of the lights turned to reveal him pouting.

"Because you were dumb and put yourself in danger. You should have called in your lead, not follow it," Anya scolded, crossing her arms.

"Right, because the police would follow rumors." Bellamy crossed his arms over his chest and scowled, leaning on one foot.

"Listen, arguing about something that already happened isn't going to get the power turned back on. Why don't we all go and see if anyone's looking into it? Management usually does, but who knows if they're even in the building?" Clarke grabbed her boots from beside the front door, leaning against the door to pull them on.

"Can we go with Clarke, Mom?" Tris stood up, looking for her own boots and coat in case she was allowed.

"Please?" Aden chipped in, looking between his older sisters as Tris handed him his hat.

"I don't think that's a good idea, do you, Lex?" Anya looked over, sighing when Lexa was already pulling on her coat and grinning sheepishly at her sister.

"Sorry An. I want to go make sure there's nothing wrong." She stomped into her boots and straightened up from tying the laces, smiling at Clarke. "Ready when you are!"

Clarke grinned, hoping the relative darkness hid her blushing cheeks. "Awesome. Anyone else?"

Soon enough, the entire group was dressed in their coats and things and trooping down the stairs, from the fifth floor to the ground floor. The lobby was full of other residents, most of whom Clarke knew from around town. The only one she didn't recognize, in fact, was a tall woman with short red hair. Or, it looked red, in the flash of random phonelight that swept over her as she skulked on the peremeter of the gathering.

"Clarke!" Wells Jaha, Clarke's childhood best friend and the negotiator for the PCPD, darted forward and hugged her. "We really need to hang out and catch up sometime." Even thought they lived in the same building, they hardly saw each other anymore unless they accidentally ran into each other in town.

"I know, we will. You're always so busy, and I always have stuff going on." She smiled at him when she pulled back, then looked around. "Does anyone know what's going on?"

"Nathan thinks the blizzard knocked the electricity out-" he started, hooking a thumb over his shoulder towards the man that was talking with a few parents with kids clinging to them.

"Blizzard?" Octavia interrupted, hurrying to the front door of the building. "Holy shit, there's a frickin' blizzard coming down out there!"

"It wasn't this bad when we got here." Monty frowned, looking over her shoulder. He stepped back a little to let Aden and Tris look.

"This seems so dramatic for such a small city," Hunter mumbled, hugging their torso as they watched what little of the blowing snow that could be seen through the glass doors dance around.

Clarke noticed their tension and frowned, moving to stand near enough to be heard but not to touch. "You okay?"

"Yeah, just. Small spaces, closed spaces." They shrugged, pulling their lips into what Clarke thought was supposed to be a smile but ended up a grimace.

Clarke nodded, glancing around. "I hear you. Let me know if you need anything, okay?" Hunter nodded, rubbing their arms.

 

**Lexa; Sunday, 5:37pm**

It was dark, cold, and some kid was glued to Clarke's side. Not that Lexa was jealous or anything, but it was hard to watch out for the blonde when someone was already right there.

Not that she needed watching over.

"Why don't you just go over and talk to her? Or them, making new friends isn't a bad thing?" Anya huffed, placing her hands on her hips in that way she did when she was anxious but trying to present an aura of authority.

"What?" Lexa glanced at her sister and sighed, crossing her arms. "I don't want to interrupt."

"Oh stop pouting. Clarke keeps glancing over here with some puppy-dog look, like she wants to come over and talk to you but she doesn't want to bother you."

Lexa risked a glance over at the artist again, watched as she discussed something with the black haired kid and a couple of Aden and Tris's friends. Clarke glanced up and caught her eye as Aden and Tris both glomped onto her, grinning at their friends. She smiled, her blue eyes lighting up, and Lexa's heart skipped a beat. She hissed in a breath and smiled back, uncrossing her arms and stuffing her hands in her coat pockets. Then she turned back to Anya and glared. "She is not."

The detective rolled her eyes, shaking her head. "Oh my God, I cannot deal with you right now."

Lexa took a moment then to really study the blonde. There was color in her cheeks, a bright contrast to the paleness that had been present since the attack. She seemed a little more at ease, a little more relaxed, even as she kept her gaze flickering over the exits, as if making sure she could get to them if she needed to. Her hair was pulled up half way, braids on either side of her head and joined at the back, the rest free to tumble down her shoulders. Her smile was genuine when she laughed with the kids, and the only sign of anxiety she showed, other than the restless gaze, was the slight tenseness of her shoulders.

Not that Lexa was staring hard enough to notice any of that.

"Someone needs to go down and see why the generator hasn't kicked in yet," Bellamy mumbled, his hands on his girlfriend's shoulders.

"Any volunteers to go with Bell?" Octavia sidled up next to them, and in a couple of quick minutes, the usual dinner group, sans Jasper, was huddled together.

"Why am I immediately going?" Bellamy grumped, and Octavia rolled her eyes.

"Because you brought it up, Dummy."

Arguments broke out, mostly about why one should go instead of another, and Lexa sighed. "I'll go. It can't be that hard to find the generator, right?"

"I'll go too," a dark skinned man stepped up, and Clarke smiled at him widely (Lexa ignored the pang she felt, shoving it into the dark recesses of her mind. She didn't have time to deal with any weird flares of jealousy.) He grinned back at her and then turned his attention to Lexa and Anya. "I'm Wells Jaha, childhood best friend of Clarke."

"Lexa Woods," the brunette introduced herself, taking his hand.

"Anya Kourt," her sister did the same.

"I'm in," Lincoln stepped up, Octavia beaming at him.

The four gathered at the door that opened into the stairwell that would lead them to the basement, the rest of their friends grouped behind them. It looked like a never ending pit of darkness, looming before them and eager to swallow their souls. Lexa suppressed a shudder and turned to the others. "Anyone got a flashlight?"

One was pulled out from somewhere, and one of those mini flashlights, and then the four descended down the stairs.

They split into two groups of two, Lincoln and Bellamy going off to find the generator while Lexa and Wells focused on finding the fuse box to see if maybe it was just a blown fuse that caused the blackout. It took them a minute, winding around moldy boxes and avoiding spiderwebs, but Lexa, who held the mini flashlight, finally found the fuse box. Wells pried it open and Lexa stood back, holding the light as the man checked over the inside.

"Are there supposed to be that many exposed wires?" Wells sounded hesitant, moving aside so Lexa can see over his shoulder. Sure enough, there in the beam of the flashlight, a whole handful of wires looked like they'd been pulled out and cut.

"I don't think so," she mumbled, leaning forward to peer at it closer.

"The generator is busted too," Lincoln called back from farther in the expansive room, his voice a hushed echo bouncing off the concrete that surrounded the four of them.

"It looks like it was done deliberately." Bellamy's added observation sent shivers down Lexa's spine.

She nodded, hugging her arms around herself and rubbing her arms as she stepped back towards the stairs. "Alright, now that we've figured that out, we can go back upstairs, right?" She handed the mini light to Wells.

"Why, Lexa Woods, are you scared?" Lincoln grinned in the beam of the flashlight Wells had trained on him, his eyebrows waggling.

"What, no, it's freezing down here. I can't feel my nose." She glared at her best friend, certainly not pouting, and rubbed at her arms again.

Lincoln smirked, and they all trooped back up to the main floor.

 

**Clarke; Sunday, 5:53pm**

It was dark and cold and Clarke was tired. She huddled in the middle of the lobby with Hunter, Aden, Tris, Leo, Lance, Octavia, and a few others. O was pressed against one side, and Hunter had glued themself to her other side, while the kids all pressed to her front, with Tris in the middle.

It was Anya that noticed the return of the four that went down stairs, and she called out to them. "What did you find? I'm guessing something is wrong, if the power's not on?"

"Yeah, the wires were cut," Bellamy said, his brow furrowed as he went to stand with his girlfriend and sister. "And the generator was messed with and won't run."

"That's-" Hunter started, crossing their arms.

"Not good?" Wells grimaced, interrupting. He made his way to Clarke and set his hand on her shoulder, and the rest of the tenants gathered around. "Yeah."

"What's going on?" Mrs. Fitz laid her hand on her son's back. "What do you mean the wires were cut?"

Lexa hugged her torso, and Clarke met her gaze over the kids' heads. The older girl looked worried and scared, which did not settle well with Clarke. Lexa blew out a breath. "The fuse box was sabotaged, and the generator. Someone cut the power deliberately."

Clarke sucked in a breath, worse-case scenarios playing through her mind's eye like a movie reel. She could feel her heart pounding, like it was sitting outside her chest instead of inside, but she managed to keep a calm face. She blew her breath out, her hands coming to rest on Tris's shoulders. She was feeling paranoid, thinking that maybe someone had seen Bellamy snooping around in Weatherville and come back to scare him off. She kept that thought to herself for the time being, not wanting to scare the kids. "Well, we can't leave with the storm out there, so we really have no choice but to wait."

There was grumbling all around, and Clarke pulled away after a minute. She made sure to reassure those giving her weird looks that she was fine, she just needed some space, and then she tucked herself into a secluded corner near a window. Even though it was dark already, she could see the fat flakes clearly as they danced down to the ground. The sight was mesmerizing and distracting, and she focused on it instead of the growing dread in her stomach.

It wasn't really working, though, and she tapped her fingers insistently on her arms, pressing her forehead to the cool glass of the window.

"Clarke? Are you okay?" Lexa's voice penetrated through her growing panic, just enough to be heard, but she found she couldn't move. There was a warmth at her back, a breath on her ear, but Lexa didn't touch her. "Clarke, I need you to breathe, okay?"

Now that she recognized her lightheadedness as lack of oxygen, Clarke sucked in a breath, squeezing her arms tightly in her fingers. She fogged up the window as the breathed out, then turned and looked at Lexa. "I- thanks."

Lexa's eyes were full of understanding. "You want to talk about it?"

Clarke felt her eyes fill up with tears, and she shook her head. Partly to answer Lexa, but partly because it wasn't fair. Here she was, panicking and freaking out, and there Lexa was, understanding and still wanting to be around her. As if to prove Clarke's inner point, Lexa just nodded and smiled softly, crossing her arms and moving to look out the window without moving away.

Clarke found herself leaning against Lexa, an arm wrapping around the firefighter's waist. Lexa stayed silent, though she did uncross her arms to wrap one around Clarke's shoulders.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clexa progress! Also, the mural unveiled (sort of) and a kidnapping attempt (though that's kind of vague)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for the wait! Personal issues chased most of my muses off, and I'm just now getting them back. For those of you still reading, thanks for sticking with me! For those just joining, welcome!
> 
> This one's another short one, but I'm working on chapter ten even as I type this note, so hopefully I get that one up soon (fingers crossed).
> 
> trigger warning for careless handling of guns, near the end (no one gets hurt and no one actually pulls the trigger though)
> 
> Enjoy!

**Lexa; Friday, 6:24pm**

    It took twenty minutes before the realization sunk in for the rest of the residents that their building had been tampered with deliberately.

    In that twenty minutes, Lexa had first stood with Clarke at the window, their arms around each other, watching the wild dance of flakes outside. Then Aden and Tris had joined them, both oddly quiet. Lexa supposed that they were scared but too stubborn to admit it, and so the only acknowledgement she gave them was a kiss on the head each, and then the four of them were watching the storm, the kids leaning back against the adults.

    After that, their friends trickled over. Anya, Octavia, Lincoln, Raven, Bellamy, Monty, Gina, Wells, and even that kid, and the group of them all stood silently watching the storm. Then three others joined them, and after they greeted Clarke and her friends with grins, Clarke explained that they were more friends from elementary school.

    "You adopted a whole pack of people back then, didn't you?" the kid snickered, bumping Clarke lightly against her shoulder.

     Lexa felt a little lighter when Clarke grinned, nodding. "Yeah, I kinda did. And then Bell adopted us," she laughed, glancing over at Bellamy.

    He made a face, all but sticking his tongue out at the group that were all snickering at his expense. "Yeah, I don't know why, though."

    "It's because we're awesome, Bell," Raven cackled, swinging her arm around his shoulder. "And you love us."

    He didn't argue with her, and the group was quiet for a little after that. Lexa tried not to get too excited when Clarke turned into her more, snuggling closer. She ended up with her head under Lexa's chin, both arms wrapped around her waist, and Lexa's nose buried in that blonde mane.

    (Lexa did not sniff Clarke, though she noticed she smelled like citrus.)

    It was then that some of the other residents started panicking.

    They were all bunched together in a separate group, with a couple of people by themselves, bickering amongst each other. Suddenly, it got very loud, and Mr. Hunter, Lance's father, was shouting. "How do we know it wasn't someone here? We don't know all of them!" Lexa turned her head to see he was pointing at her and her friends, and she couldn't help the anger that bristled.

    Clarke leaned over, not letting go of Lexa, and rolled her eyes. "Mr. Hunter, these are my friends, I've known them for years, and none of them would deliberately sabotage the building. Plus, they were all in Octavia and my apartment when the power went out."

    "Shouldn't we call the police at least?" Mrs. Fitz fretted, wringing her hands as she looked around at everyone else, keeping her son Leo close.

    Anya snorted, tugging Tris' hat down farther over her ears. "Lady, I am the police." She turned serious though, frowning deeply. "Though I suppose I should go down and investigate, take some pictures. With the storm still on outside, it's not safe to call in reinforcements."

    Clarke's friend, Wells, nodded in agreement. "I'll go with you. I might specialize in negotiation, but I'm still a cop."  
  
    Clarke seemed to tighten her grip, and Lexa did the same, trying to silently support Clarke  somehow. She was calmer than earlier, now, but still leaning heavily on Lexa. Not that Lexa minded, really.

    "Okay, Jaha and I will go back down and take some pictures. Then we'll come up and take some statements, just for the record, so if anyone saw anything out of the ordinary, anything at all, other than the group that were in Clarke's place, then tell us then." Anya took charge, pulling her phone out and grabbing a flashlight that someone had found in a supply closet. Before the two officers headed back down to the basement, Anya turned to her family. She pulled Tris and Aden into a hug, frowning at them. "Stay with Lexa, hear me?"

    Both preteens nodded their agreement, stepping closer to Lexa. 

**Clarke; Friday, 6:46pm**

    Clarke was worried she was being clingy, especially since it was Lexa she was leaning on, but at the same time she couldn't bring herself to care too much. Lexa wasn't pushing her away, in fact, when Clarke clung tighter, Lexa reciprocated and tightened her own grip. So there Clarke stayed, hanging onto Lexa like her life depended on it. (Lexa wasn't saying anything or pushing her away, so why not, right?)

    She turned to the window as Anya and Wells headed down the stairs, watching the snow again. There was something about the white chaos outside that calmed her, and mixed with the warmth of Lexa, she was practically melting. Her anxiety simmered still, but it wasn't at the surface anymore.

    Clarke was half aware of the conversation around her, noting distantly that her friends were quietly discussing what Bellamy had discovered while he was out of town. She had half a mind to tell them to shut up, not everyone in the building needed to know what they were up to, but she opted to stay quiet and enjoy the heat of her newest friend as they stood there. Lexa was talking too, her voice low and soothing and calming, Clarke was entranced by the sound so much she didn't notice Lexa was talking to her until the warmth left a little.

    Clarke blinked up at Lexa, her cheeks pinkening at the the amused look in those kind green eyes. "I'm sorry, what?"

    Lexa smirked. "I said, are you alright?"

    Clarke took a few seconds to feel embarrassed, then nodded. "Yeah, I'm okay. Kind of? Like, this is kinda scary but I'm not alone, you know?"

    Lexa nodded, her lips quirking up in a small smile.

    Anya and Wells return without any trouble, both their faces grim and concerned.

    After that, the residents started to trickle back to their apartments, parents leading sleepy kids off and young adults with bored faces off to find something to do to occupy the time. Soon, only Clarke and her group were left, along with the redheaded stranger and Hunter Lewis. Clarke hadn't moved much, and Lexa hadn't either, and the two had just stood and watched the snow while the group discussed whatever came to mind. With the stranger and Hunter still in the lobby, the group stuck to regular topics, like the mural and when it would be completed and revealed officially. Clarke and Hunter both gushed about it, excited for the reveal, and Aden and Tris threw in their own enthusiastic comments and anecdotes about the process.

    Eventually the stranger leaves for her home, and Hunter excuses themself to sleep. The snow still hadn't showed any signs of stopping, and after a short discussion the group realized that they were stuck.

    It was decided then that the group would stay with those that lived in the building.

    Monty went with Wells, a quiet sort of shyness keeping them from meeting anyone's gaze as they climbed the stairs to the fifth floor ahead of the others. Wells led Monty to the right while the rest turned left. Bell and Gina went to their own apartment, and the rest followed Clarke and Octavia to theirs. Clarke and Octavia decided to share Clarke's room, letting Anya and Lexa take Octavia's, while Raven crashed on the couch and Lincoln and the kids on an air mattress Clarke had in the closet.

     Despite the seemingly frightening discoveries of the past few hours, the entire group had almost no trouble falling asleep in their designated sleeping spaces. Of course, also thanks to the discoveries and the storm, that peace only lasted a few hours.

    First, Aden and Tris woke up, both silently deciding to shuffle towards where Anya and Lexa were sleeping. Then, Octavia woke up and crept to the living room, climbing onto the air mattress when she found only Lincoln there.

    Clarke only knew all this, because that's what she discovered when she woke up in the middle of the night from one of her nightmares and decided to go to the kitchen instead of back to sleep. She found O and Lincoln sleeping tangled up and no sign of the kids.

    She shook her head and grabbed a clean glass from the dish drainer, turning on the tap to fill it. She was almost surprised that the water actually ran, figuring the storm may have froze the pipes or something like that. The heat was still on too, the building still depending on gas to do the job, so she figured the only thing effected was the electricity.

    Clarke was so lost in her thoughts, that the quiet voice of her friend nearly scared her to death, and she jumped, dropping the glass.

**Lexa; Saturday, 1:19am**

    Lexa had actually been sleeping pretty peacefully. The warmth of her sister set off the cold breeze from the barely-cracked window, and the day's events had made her beyond exhausted. So, she barely noticed when her brother and niece both crawled into bed with her and Anya, snuggling in between them like they used to when they were little.

    Until, of course, she was abruptly woken up to an elbow in her ribs.

    She grunted and frowned at Aden, who of course was fast asleep. She rolled out of bed, making sure the blanket was still covering her brother before heading out to the kitchen for a glass of water. She was not that surprised to see Clarke standing there with a glass already, staring off into space.

    Lexa stepped forward carefully, watching the other woman for a minute before she spoke. "Clarke? Are yo-" She'd barely gotten the words out when Clarke jumped, the glass slipping from her hand and heading to the floor. Lexa cringed as the glass shattered on the tile, throwing her hands up before Clarke could move. "Don't move, I'll clean it up. Where's your broom?" She looked up at Clarke, whose brow was furrowed.

    "What? No Lexa, I can get it." Clarke shook her head, moving as if to lift her foot.

    "Clarke, you're barefoot, you could get hurt. Just tell me where the broom is, and I'll go grab it, okay?" Lexa almost wished she didn't understand this weird reckless streak her friend seemed to be going through, and she wished Clarke would let her help.

    Clarke huffed and gestured towards the bathroom. "We keep the cleaning supplies in that little linen closet in the bathroom."

    Lexa nodded and went to grab the broom and dustpan, being sure she stayed quiet. Honestly, she was surprised the glass breaking hadn't woken anyone up. Once she was back in the little kitchen, she knelt down and set the dustpan down, picking up the bigger chunks before sweeping.

    "Lex, there's rubber gloves somewhere, you don't have to use your bare hands," Clarke mumbled with a frown.

     "It's fine, I'm being carefu- ah!" Lexa pulled her hand away from the mess on the floor, wincing at the little cut on her finger.

    "See, I told you!" Clarke stepped carefully around Lexa, somehow managing to miss the glass completely. Lexa huffed and pressed her thumb to the cut, finishing up cleaning the glass up before standing. When she turned, Clarke was right behind her with the first aid kit from the bathroom.

    For some reason she couldn't identify (or refused to), Lexa felt her cheeks heat up as Clarke gently pushed her back towards the counter. She gulped as her ass hit the edge, her eyes wide as she watched Clarke move forward into her space. Clarke set the kit down beside Lexa, gesturing for Lexa to show her the cut. When she held her hand out, Clarke wrapped her hands around it, cradling the appendage as she studied the small wound.

    Lexa's skin tingled where Clarke's touched it.

    Clarke cleaned the cut up, swiping over it with a disinfectant wipe before wrapping a bandaid around it. Then, with her cheeks flushed a pretty pink and her blue eyes focused down at their hands, Clarke lifted Lexa's hand up and pressed her lips to the bandaid.

    Lexa's breath caught in her throat, her free hand clutching at the edge of the counter behind her as she watched Clarke, and an outright gasp left her lips when Clarke lifted her gaze to Lexa's. Blue eyes, darkened but determined, were trained on her own green. The confidence mixed with the shyness belied by the pink tint on Clarke's cheeks made butterflies dance in Lexa's stomach.

    Lexa didn't know how exactly it happened, who moved first, but Clarke's lips were soft on hers.

    It was over too quickly, but neither woman pulled too far away. Clarke still had Lexa's injured hand in one of hers, the other resting on Lexa's cheek. Lexa's free hand was tangled in Clarke's hair, which she tugged at gently. "What are we doing, Clarke?"

    Clarke's thumb swept over Lexa's cheekbone, once, twice. A soft smile tugged on Clarke's lips, and she tilted her head a little. Clarke leaned forward and kissed her again, and Lexa melted into it, uncaring for the moment that her question went unanswered.

**Clarke; Sunday, 2:09pm**

    You'd have never known that there was a blizzard in Polis City just a week before, with all the snow gone and the air a little warmer than normal. The mural was finally finished, the seal applied and dried, and the entirety of Polis City was invited to view it the official-unveiling-slash-block-party that was being held that afternoon.

    Food was provided by various vendors around the city, drinks included. Security was provided for by the Polis City Police Department and volunteers from the local gym, where Octavia taught kickboxing in her free time. Most of the students that attended Polis City Public Schools were there, and quite a number from the university too. The mural was covered for now, mostly, and would be revealed to the people in an hour or so. Over half of the rest of the city was spread out between the middle school and the park across the street.

    It was very busy and very crowded, and the only thing that kept Clarke from crawling out of her skin was Lexa's steady presence nearby. Clarke clutched her glass of iced tea close, chewing on the skin on her lips while she watched the crowd mingle. A hand on her back made her jump, and she turned to find Lexa next to her. "You okay?"

    Clarke somehow managed a smile and nodded. "Yeah, there's just a lot of people around. I'm fine." She took a deep breath and leaned against Lexa, watching the people around them. Kids were playing, teens were messing around, adults were conversing. It was nice, really, just. Crowded.

    Lexa nodded, wrapping her arm around Clarke as they watched for a minute. Then she looked down at Clarke. "When's the reveal?"

    Clarke looked at her phone to check the time. "In about an hour." She smiled up at Lexa, catching her gaze.

    Fifteen minutes later, Clarke was accosted by Nia Winters and her two children with a request to see the mural before it was unveiled for the public. She took a breath and smiled at Lexa again before leading them out. Hunter followed them, prepared to intervene in case Clarke- in case. Clarke was a little annoyed, but mostly at herself, so she allowed them to come.

    Nia stood tall and studied the wall, her face emotionless as she took in the picture painted on the wall. Roan and Ontari both reacted a little more emotionally, looking closely. Clarke looked with them with pride welling in her chest.

    The mural seemed a bit cliche, with a tree in the center and people spread out around it. The tree's branches spread out along the wall from one side to the other, its leaves made up of the middle schooler's handprints in different shades of green. The people depicted were of all shapes, colors, and sizes, each with a different profession apparent with how they were dressed (including but not limited to: a firefighter, a police officer, a teacher, a reporter, a construction worker. Even a vague representation of Superman stood tall in the back, alongside a couple other superhero types). There were a few of the town's most recognized buildings in the background, including the art museum as it had been before the attack.

    Nia turned to Clarke, her eyes softer than Clarke had ever seen them. "This is amazing, Miss Griffin-"

    A shout interrupted her, more of a projection of sound than anything, and suddenly there were three people surrounding the five of them. Clarke tensed, recognizing them immediately; it was the three who had attacked the museum! She had enough presence to pull Hunter back, but not much else as she fought her initial response to jump back to that day.

    Roan pushed his mother and sister behind him, putting himself in between the terrorists and his family, also effectively cutting off Clarke's view of them. "You have a lot of nerve showing up here," he growled.

    The twitchy one, still too pale and fidgety, waved the pistol he carried over the group. "Move and you won't get hurt. Much." The grin that pulled at the corner of his lips made Clarke shiver as she still fought to stay in the present.

    None of the five did as he said, and Clarke wondered briefly why the hell not, seeing as the terrorists had guns and they didn't. Just as the other two raised their weapons to train them on the Winters family, though, a shout rang out.

    "Drop your weapons, or we'll shoot!"

    "We have you surrounded!"

    Clarke whipped her head over just enough to see that Anya was there, with her fellow officers spread out around the group, guns trained on the three terrorists. She slumped with relief, dropping down to her knees on the ground as she lost the fight with her mind, the images from the initial attack swamping her.


End file.
